Kenneth Olugbode
“Bye Daddy,” my Turkey Legs muffled voice trailed through the thick green townhouse door. A step and a half later “Bye Daddy, Bye Daddy!”I looked back as I was exiting the back porch. I don’t know what my four year old daughter was standing on, but now she was blowing kisses out the kitchen window. I reluctantly, yet earnestly waved back from the concrete walkway.
Ten or Twelve steps closer to the parking lot must have been too much of a distance. The last time I left her, Gabby was one year old. That was 39 months ago, a time when she was understanding more words than she could really pronounce. I remember those mornings when I used to feel like a bad parent, when I forgot to wake up and change Gabby's diaper in the middle of the night.
Heavy memories that are filled with empty promises. Memories that push me to be a better father, a better man, a better person.
I want to say it was a windy day. Leaves of various colors shuffling subtly along the untrimmed grass, as I took in the smell of fresh Bloomington autumn air. But honestly, I don't remember any of that; All I remember is that each step felt like 3 years and 3 months all over again, or at the very least, another stressful night in jail.
My baby, my Gabriella, had a leash attached to my heart strings. Every time I heard goodbye Daddy, Turkey Legs pulled me back. Back to the future, which was one of uncertainty. I hadn't been out of prison for a whole day, and yet, my only child, my whole daughter's spoken words were easily yanking me back to the past. A time when her calls for daddy sounded more like a question. Fast forward a couple years and it was more like a demand. Too far off the porch for her age, Gabriella was now past the threshold. Standing there rebelliously she shouted, “Bye daddy bye daddy, I love you daddy, bye!”
A needed pit stop ending up being an unexpected guilt trip.
This Saturday morning marked 20 hours of freedom. I spent 273 weeks, or 1,910 days, or 45,840 hours or 2, 750, 400 minutes, or 165, 024, 000 seconds Waiting on the day before this present one. As much as I wanted my baby girl to know: I didn't want to leave. Reassure her, that daddy is not abandoning her, that Daddy really really didn't want to go. But I had to. And yet, Gabby’s pretty little brown eyes were clouded with confusion. I could hear the tightness in my daughter's voice. I couldn't save my Turkey Legs from the boa constrictor of abandonment that was wrapping itself around her right before my eyes.
A feeling I myself am no stranger to. I was six when my mom left me in Texas to stay with my Aunt Michelle. I know I was wishing for my uncle's blue four door Ford to just to break down in the middle of one of Fort Worth's many elevated highways. Anything to prolong my mother from catching that flight.
Moms must have seen and of course sensed my trepidation. Her attempts to soothe me were to no avail. That morning at DFW Airport it was probably 75°, the only thing that was odd was every time my mom took a step further away from me I felt a 30 below degree wind chill.
Now I was the parent jetting off. I needed to be in Fort Worth in the next 48 hours because on Monday my parole officer would be expecting me in his office. On the other side of his desk, drilling me while I halfway listened. Half of me is in his office, the other half somewhere else. Somewhere a lot more precious. Like the thought of my daughter, a little girl who deserves more than a halfway dad. Look at me: the determined adult who had more important things to do. A situation I couldn't explain to my child, nonetheless unable to oblige her subliminal pleas. All I could tell Gabby was: I love you too baby!
But like what was I going to tell Gabriella anyway: I'm moving away because some random dude who probably looks like me will try to blow a hole through me. If I'm caught on the wrong block or with the wrong people. And if he misses, holes are going to go through him. A stranger who could theoretically try to end my life. A stranger who really doesn't know me, who doesn't know her. How would Gabby respond to all that? What would she have said at 4 years old, if I told her that the last 15 years her father wasted most of that time in the streets. Wasted every single minute I didn't make those streets any safer. And not because I truly didn't want to, but rather, I didn't know where to start.
So yesterday was my restart. Yesterday was October the 5th of 2018. As I waited in this semi deserted parking lot on the mother of my child. My impatience was getting the best of me. It was almost evening and I couldn't wait to see my Turkey Legs reaction. I gave Gabriella the nickname Turkey Legs when she was barely three months old. Standing Gabby up in her onesie that tags read 6 months and up, I couldn't help but be amazed by the strength of her pudgy legs. And I've held quite a few babies in my day, therefore I knew this name would be as special as she was.
It had been so long since those Turkey Legs ran towards me and right into my arms. I was afraid that Gabby would look at me like any other person.
An hour felt like a week. I decided to look around. Because this apartment wasn't the townhouse Ashante found after she got pregnant in 2013. I wanted to get my BM out of the city so I told her about this program in Bloomington, Illinois. The numbers on the top of the building confirmed that I was at the right address. When I looked down —- to my surprise, I seen my daughter through the glass door of the vestibule. Smiling from ear to ear, Gabriella quickly granted me access inside the building.
I had finally made it to the other side of the rainbow, and to my delight my little Turkey Legs was just as bubbly as I was. I hugged and kissed her to death, then followed Gabby up this squeaky staircase that led to her grandmother's one bedroom apartment. Gabby's hairdo needed to be redeemed, her shirt was too small, plus she greeted me with no shoes. I inspected my daughter from head to toe like I worked for DCFS. Before we made it to the front door I was ready to grab Gabriella's coat and bounce right then and there. But as soon as I got inside I was struck by Bobby's condition.
What I love most about Ashante's mother was the genuine fact that she wanted to see everybody happy. So the rare times we didn't really agree, we still agreed: to disagree, with her big smile sealing the deal. But today, Bobby's good vibes weren't feeling up in the room. Today was one of her bad days. Before I got locked up in 2015, Bobby was prescribed an oxygen tank. Although the bulky contraption assisted my daughter's mother's mother with her breathing, it didn't help Bobby kick her cigar smoking habit. So shortly after I walked in, the place was swarming with: white, red, and black uniforms. Shockingly enough, the paramedics who I thought would be strangers were actually regulars of this address. Even crazier, when I looked at Gabriella she didn't seem the least bit rattled. As a matter of fact, Gabby was trying to get me to chase her around the apartment.
As much as I wanted to play tag with my baby, my heart, my Turkey Legs, I was too busy worrying about Bobby and her daughter, Ashante's whereabouts. It took the paramedics less than 20 minutes to examine Bobby before deciding to take her to the hospital. Through the midst of all the commotion, the mother of my child appeared in the crowd.
I didn't really think about it back then, but this whole thing with Bobby was something Ashante was trying to hide from me. In an effort to stall me out, Ashante sent me to a couple of different places that couldn't be found on the GPS. Before finally giving me the correct address where Gabriella could be found.
After talking to the medical staff, Ashante was apparently ready to flame on, but as soon as she started fuming she noticed the changes I had made to my physique. It was almost as if she didn't recognize me. While Bobby was being carried to the ambulance downstairs, me and Ashante were having a standoff.
Ashante, a woman who I had obviously had a child with was also a person who reminded me of quicksand. These usual exchanges of passive aggression were stifled by my little girl's excitement. I had already explained to Gabby that I was taking her shopping, therefore her mother realized I was there for one thing and one thing only.
In a stern voice, Ashante told Gabby to get ready, and ordered me to go in the bathroom to help her but not before she explained to Gabriella that I was the only man she could trust in this way. Ashante emphasized to my baby girl that I was the only man she was allowed to get undressed in front of.
At first Gabby seemed to halfway listen like she usually does, until the manner in which Ashante stressed the importance shifted the energy in the room. I just leaned on the closest cream-colored wall. And empathized with the fact that not too long ago Gabby was in diapers, and now after a year or two my daughter was being confronted with her own sexuality.
I had saved up about $800 during the back end of my bid. So with this nice piece of chump change, wearing nothing but my prison-issued black and white jogging suit, me and Turkey Legs walked into what had to be the biggest mall in Bloomington. I was thinking fast because this little tite could quickly be distracted and I didn't want to be one of those parents who seemed like they couldn't keep their child in check. At the same time it was liberating just to call out my daughter's name. To hear her say Daddy even when she was still ignoring me. The moments she glanced up, the twinkles in the narrow slants of Gabby's eyes danced around pride, admiration, and pure joy.
For Gabby it was like I didn't miss a beat. To her, it was like I hadn't been gone for 3 years. It was just another day with her dad. But for me all this was surreal. On my way from Centralia I didn't know what to expect from Ashante, who was the definition of unpredictable. But here I was strolling through the mall with my baby girl. The last time I was in traffic with my princess I could just snatch her up and throw her in my arms. She used to smack the hell out of me sometimes lol, but now, I could no longer just contain her like she was 1 year old.
vsmarttoo!InoticedhernoticingmestaringatallthewalkingEyecandythatdecoratedthe ariouspathwaysandstorefrontsoftheshoppingcenter. Itwasn'tthathardtofightmyprimal urges, becausemyprimarygoalwasgettingmydaughtersomenewthreads.
Gabriella'sbirthdaywasNovember13th , soshewasturningfiveinalittleoveramonth . Although fromherheightandsizeyouwouldhavethoughtshewaseverybitofsixorseven.
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I guess all those good commercials Old Navy invested in really work. Because as soon as I saw those big bold letters above that huge entrance it was like Eureka! I knew I could get some quality clothes at a reasonable price. I pointed and let my Turkey Legs lead the way. Skipping and moving her arms like we were at a chocolate factory.
Old Navy's back to school / fall line was everything a parent could ask for. I was going to make this little money do what it do. With a pile of new clothes, me and Gabriella entered one of these nice looking dressing rooms. Gabby couldn't stop admiring her reflection as she marveled at the wide mirror that nearly covered the whole dressing room wall. It wasn't that funny then, I laugh now about how difficult Gabby could be at times (she gets it from her mama). I just knew I didn't want to be at the mall all day. I grabbed a Chicago Bears t-shirt and headed for the register. Extremely satisfied with all the different colored jeans, matching tops, hats and shoes that were being rung up, and if I might add: the cashier wasn't too bad herself.
After I confessed to Miss Thing that I didn't have an Old Navy card, this triggered her to encourage me to sign up for one right then and there. I concurred to reap the benefits of 15% off each item. First I had to show some identification, which was prison issued and opened up the door for some flirtatiousness. I couldn't really get my Mac on, because I could feel Gabby hanging on to every last one of my words. I probably could have got my rocks off if my little princess was a little prince. It had to be my subconscious mind that made my womanizing advancements feel slightly awkward. Spiritually, I knew some dude would later try to hit my daughter with the same moves. The same cycle of games I was trying to lace this young lady with as she was ringing up Gabby's stuff. When I became a father, the things I wanted to do started to reflect the things I wanted for my child. So if I looked at every woman like just another Conquest instead of a future wife. What kind of energy would I be putting into the universe? What type of message would I be sending Turkey?
I left the mall with about $75, the best money I ever spent. Aunt Robin who was the host for my parole site in Texas was sitting in the parking lot, in her all new all black Santa Fe. A heavy truck that will protect her from the vicious Lone Star State highways. We all agreed on Wendy's and found a motel. Aunt Robin and I had a 15-hour road trip ahead of us the following morning.
Me and my daughter had a bed to ourselves. Gabby wasn't worried about the next day. She didn't have a care in the world. For a four-year-old every minute was playtime.
I didn't realize how hard tomorrow would be until tomorrow became today. Today, was stressful to look at Gabriella looking at me, like I was doing something wrong. Like I was leaving her, but I was. But I was coming back, I told Gabriella I was coming back. Gabby in the middle of the walkway, me in the small parking lot. My daughter wasn't buying it. She couldn't buy into the fact that I was reaching for the door handle of my aunt's truck. She really wasn't feeling this. I promised. I promise to buy Gabby more of those expensive dolls like the one I just bought her that morning when we stopped at walmart. ($10 hot ones left). Before we dropped my mother off at Amtrak, she suggested we stop at Walmart so we could pick up some groceries for the house. My OG felt for Ashante. She raised me as a single mother too. Reminding me how much she always voices her appreciation for my grandmother's help. I wished my mom was still there to help me. Distract Gabby so I could sneak off like Batman. Because right now my feet were covered in cement, and my heart was like a dog bone in a cage with a puppy.
I just wanted Gabby to know the same thing Tykari B wanted his Mimi to know: you are special. Remember: all little girls deserve to have a daddy love them and be there for them.
Even if Ashante tried to replace me, she could never replace the love I have for my Turkey Legs. This unconditional love that rests inside me. A love I would describe as a Rose Garden that is specifically assigned to Gabriella. Which never withers and rather grows stronger, wider, and higher as every single bud and thorn flourishes through the depths of my soul.
Gabby will probably never know how much strength it took me to get into that truck. The fears that arose while I helped her try on clothes at the Old Navy. How long would it be before another man tried to undress her? A man I didn't know. A man that didn't receive my blessings. A man I needed to be there to protect her from. Guard Gabby from before the evils of life could ever have a chance to contaminate her. Be the example of the kind of man I wanted to be waiting for her at the end of the Aisle.
But there I was, leaving her to the wolves. As my aunt began to reverse the vehicle, Gabriella was still in drive. Still waving at me. Still yelling
“Bye daddy bye daddy, I love you!”
Ever since Gabby was an infantshe didn'tlike being left. She was the type ofbaby that wouldwake up as soon asyou triedto lay her in her crib. Like she
hadheatsensors connectedto her blankie. Maybe
thatfeeling ofabandonmentran in hergenes. By the time she was one, Gabriella woulduse her strong legs to crawlon my face before she fellallthe way to sleep. Ifher belly button wasn'ton my eyeballshe wasn'tsatisfied. This memory ofher waving atme from the courtway always feels like that. Itfeels like my baby is trying to holdon for dear life. Holding on withevery ounce ofher Turkey Legs.
Kenneth Olugbode
My Turkey
No matter how much you grow
You're always be my little Turkey
Worthy
I have the duty to help you understand
Just how worthy you are
My shooting star
No matter how mad you get
Or how sad you feel
The thought of my turkey makes me smile
If someone told me this Turkey couldn't fly
I would tell them they told me a lie
You have the wings of a winner
The eyes of a bird
I want you to love life
The same way God put love in these words
The love in this poem
The love in this letter
The love and this thought
The love for my Turkey
Is something that can't be bought
Something that can't be taken
The love for my Turkey
Will always be
Always you
And always me
Until the lion learns to write their own story, tales of the hunt will always glorify the hunter - African Proverb
