Are you there, Dad? It's Me. Emmy.

Sometimes I wonder

if there's another version of you,

part of some other timeline

out there in the universe,

woven into the fabric of some other reality,

a place where

(maybe)

you're who you wanted to be;

a version of your love that isn't sick...

a version of you that isn't sick.

Would that version be proud of me?

Would he like me?

Would he walk me down the aisle?

Would he come to the father-daughter dances?

Would he be sober?

Would he know me?

Would he want to?

This isn't a poem so much as a series of questions.

(Maybe)

even a prayer.