Family.  Most consist of people you grow up with, the foundation of your childhood, a mom, a dad, siblings, for the most part all under one roof. Laughter around the dinner table after a good soccer game, and the comfort of knowing you belong somewhere, that somebody, somewhere, loves you. Without a doubt. That’s the Hallmark verison. 

But my story? My story is different. My story consists of learning what family means when it doesn’t look like the movies, and discovering how to stand on my own two feet when my dad drove away, leaving me to discover who I was without him. 

At the beginning, I felt lost and confused. Over time though, I learned how to navigate the world, finding who I am, without the biggest piece of me. 

I remember sitting on the cold leather seats of my stepmom's car. The chill lingered on my skin after standing outside, waiting for them to pick me up for the first time in two weeks.  As I climbed into the back passenger seat, I carefully positioned myself behind my dad far from my stepmom’s reach. The air in the car felt heavy, thick with a tension that made my chest tighten. 

About two minutes down the road from my mom’s house, Kassie, my stepmom, turned into a church parking lot. It was a place I knew since we often stopped there to have serious talks. But this time, something felt off. Kassie's expression was cold and distant, her eyes empty of emotion. My dad’s face, on the other hand, looked sad and stern, but heavy with something I couldn’t quite place. 

Kassie gripped the edge of her seat and twisted around to face me. Her voice was sharp, almost spoken with no emotion like the next words out of her mouth had no meaning as to how my life continued, as she said,  "How you respond to this conversation determines if we keep you or not, Hailey."

Keep me? What did they mean, ‘keep me’? Did she mean locking me in the closet again or worse? No, they wouldn’t do that. My dad would never… Would he?

I sat there surprised by Kassie's words, not sure how to respond. What if I was wrong? What if my reaction wasn't the right one and they did ‘get rid of me‘? 

The pain in my chest began to grow until I couldn't ignore it anymore. I began rubbing my chest, something I often did when anxious. Kassie turned back around, gripping the steering wheel, staring off into the distance, I wondered how somebody could say such a life altering sentence, and act so nonchalant. It was like the words that had just escaped her mouth had no meaning behind them. 

Then it was my dad’s turn.  Unbuckling, he turned in his seat to face me, his expression uncertain, his silence stretching uncomfortably long. Finally, he reached over and handed me a letter. Four pages, front and back. Every inch of the paper was packed with words I wasn’t sure I was ready to read. 

As I started reading the letter, I struggled to get through it. It was filled with accusations about how I was a terrible daughter and how I had let him down. As I read those lies, my eyes filled with tears. I had always been daddy's little girl, so how could he say these things about me? The more I read, the angrier I became. Then I noticed something strange, details I wouldn’t have caught before. There was punctuation, and the handwriting was neat. I could actually read it, which was odd for my dad. He never used punctuation, and his handwriting was more like “doctor’s handwriting” or “chicken scratch.” That’s when it hit me. He hadn’t written this letter. Kassie did.

The anger inside me boiled over. I wasn’t hurt or confused anymore,  I was just mad.  I had gone through all of the stages of grief in such a short amount of time. I wiped my tears, took a deep breath, and said, “None of this is true. I’m a damn good daughter, and these lies mean nothing.” With tears of anger streaming down my face I took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter.

The silence grew, and I feared what came next. What did they plan to do with me now? The car shifted into gear and began to move. I knew whichever way Kassie moved that steering wheel would determine how my life proceeded. Turning right led to Grand Rapids, while turning left led to my mom's house. Which way would she go? The steering wheel turned left, but I couldn't believe it. Maybe they planned to take the Holland route, or maybe the goal was to make me panic. Then, the car turned into my mom's driveway. My heart pounded, my breath stopped, and a wave of dread and disbelief  washed over me.

Kassie threw  the car into park and tossed my backpack onto the driveway. In a stern, almost robotic voice, she said, “Get out. You’re no longer welcome in my home.” 

I stared at her, shocked and scared. I turned to my dad, “Dad, no. I don’t want to leave. She can’t make me go, can she?” 

“Get out,” he said flatly. 

Stunned and in disbelief, I looked back and forth between them, hoping this was some cruel joke. But their expressions didn’t change. Slowly, I climbed out of the car. Standing behind it, I watched the brake lights come on and the car drive away. I stood there, frozen, as they disappeared into the distance. I hoped and prayed they would turn around and come back for me, but they didn’t. Tears poured down my face as I stood alone in the driveway. 

Finally, I picked up my bag, threw it over my shoulder,  took a deep breath, and whispered under my breath, “Chin up, chest out, kid.”  This was something my grandfather used to say whenever life got tough. I turned around and walked into my mom’s house, ignoring every question my family members had for me as to why I was back. I opened the door to my mom’s room, where she was folding laundry, and said, “They left me. They don’t want me anymore.”

She wrapped me in a tight hug, and for a moment, the world felt a little less messy. Afterward, I went to my room, laid down, and let exhaustion pull me into sleep.

I’ve continued to learn and grow without the love of my biological father, and without him in my life. But through that journey, I discovered something even more meaningful, a new definition of family. Family isn’t just the people who brought you into this world; it’s the people who choose to stand by you. I have the love of a father, just not from the man who gave me life. It comes from someone who stepped into that role with open arms, unconditional support, and a heart full of love. That’s what family is to me. It’s the people who stay through the hard times, who choose you no matter what. No, It’s not always like the perfect scenes in a Hallmark movie, but when it’s real, it’s even better. Real family? That is about the ones who make you feel chosen, valued, and supported every step of the way.

Viewing the smooth lake as the sun rises

Cool wind washing over my skin complete,

Leaves float from the sky in many sizes

Acorns falling on my head in repeat,

The dry old wooden dock creaking within

Waves gently crash against the grassy shore,

Heat of the sun absorbed into my skin

Thunder of jet-skis and boats at noon roar,

Hovering on the dock, Jersey soars by

Stopping next to me to shake her wet fur,

Striding into the boat under the sky

Kicking my sandals off in a calm blur,

Laying down as the pontoon gently rocks

I close my eyes and remove smelly socks.