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This I Believe - Episode 12

Jordan Shultes 
Jordan Shultes is in 9th grade at Guilderland High School. She loves art and music, and would like to major in art or English in college. She moved to GCSD from Berne-Knox-Westerlo in the fourth grade.

Memories From The Back Of His Motorcycle

By Jordan Shultes

When my parents got a divorce and my father moved out, I was about four. I was really upset like any girl would be. His leaving is the saddest memory I have of him. My father always promised me things and would never keep his promises. The only promise I can remember him keeping is when he said when I was old enough he would take me on his motorcycle. That was probably the happiest a ten year old girl could be. It was during the summer and I remember it perfectly. He had a dark green Harley Davidson and I was in love with it. We drove around the yard first because I was scared. He went slowly. Then he gained speed and we drove on the road in front of his house. We didn't go that far but
I was perfectly fine with that. I can still remember what I wore, pink camo pants and a black tank top. My father wore greased stained jeans and an off white shirt. That summer was the best summer of my childhood.
I believe memory never dies.

This memory however does not overshadow how my father made me feel crushed and broken inside most of the time. After my parents divorced, I started visiting him on the weekends. He would always be working, or just didn't have time for me. He would always be breaking promises and forgetting things. I didn't see him a lot. It was around my 9th birthday and I was going to see my father. I was so excited. I knew he was going to come and visit me. I didn't care if he got me a present or not, I just wanted to see him. I was in the car with my mom and sister. We were driving back from my babysitters. My feet hit the gravel as the car rolled to a stop so we could get the mail. I was too excited to get back in the car so I made a break for the house. I turned the bend of my old, worn out drive way expecting to see my father. All I saw was the maroon colored garage door. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared. I heard the rumble of my mom's old, big, black 2000 Chevy Blazer drive down. We walked in the house and I stopped by the big bay window hoping to see my father's green and white truck roll into the drive way. I sat around all day waiting for him to come around and get me. I was ready for the weekend with him. By the time dinner rolled around, I realized he wasn't coming.

A couple days after that, my mom decided she wanted to put the house up for sale. I was heart broken. I wasn't quite sure if it was because we were going to leave the place I was born and raised, or if it was because I would be physically moving away from my father. I will always love my father, but that is all he is to me, a father. I figured that out in the seventh grade. He was never a dad to me, never really took care of me. I figured it was time to move on and accept the fact that he doesn't seem to care about me.

If I hadn't moved when I did, or if my parents never divorced then I wouldn't be the person I am today. I wouldn't have the friends I have today, like Thalia, Haley, Alecia, and mostly Aley and Sarah. They helped me a lot by being there for me and helping me grow a backbone.

If I didn't have the memories of my father I might still be the scared little girl waiting around for something that isn't going to happen. So, I hold both memories, riding on the back of the motorcycle, and waiting by the window. But the memory that holds the most value to me is waiting by the window. I wouldn't be as strong as I am today without the memory. Waiting by the window for him is the memory I am determined to keep, because it only makes me stronger. So yes, I believe everything has a tendency to die, but memory. It only dies if you let yet.


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