I was very young and I remember being at the zoo with my mom and my dad, my cousin and her parents. I watched as my uncle picked my cousin Vanessa up, way up, and placed her on his shoulders. She was up so high! And she waved her arms and she screamed with joy!

It looked amazing! I could barely believe my good fortune in learning that dads came equipped with this feature; I had no idea! I had never seen it before.

I can’t remember what happened next. I’m not sure if I asked to be picked up or simply hoped I would be. I do remember that my mom told my dad that he should pick me up too. He gave her a look and it scared me. With reluctance, he picked me up and placed me on his shoulders. I imagined my father was angry and I sat on his shoulders with the joy and comfort of a limp handshake.

It wasn’t fun at all.

I looked over at Vanessa and she waved her hands in the air and laughed. And I did that too, because it appeared that’s what one did when one rode on shoulders. But I didn’t feel that way on the inside. I felt uncomfortable sitting on my dad. I acted like I was having more fun than I was.

A few days ago, I sat on the toilet watching an American Idol clip for a few minutes before I had to leave for work. A young gay man was about to sing. He shared a story of leaving his small town and heading off to the city. And then he began to sing and it was beautiful. I noticed I was having an emotional response—something stirred inside—and I decided to close my eyes, listen to the music closely, and observe my internal workings.

And the young man sang, “If you dare, come a little closer,” and my mind’s eye showed me how I distance myself emotionally from men. And the young man sang, “Around and around and around and around we go,” and before he finished singing the line, something deep and primal and made of stone broke off inside me and freed itself. The body had exorcised another demon. And I sat there on the toilet and cried very deeply.

It appears that on that day at the zoo, as I sat on my father’s shoulders feeling unloved, that I must have begun the construction of a wall inside; a wall that separated my father from me. I must have walled off a lot, because as the gay man sang “around and around,” my mind’s eye showed me another image, long forgotten, from that same day at the zoo. I was riding a horse on the carousel. And as we went around and around, my father stood behind me and his hand rested lightly on the small of my back. He was protecting me and keeping me from falling. And for the first time in my life, as I sat on the toilet before work and watched that video, I felt the warmth and the love from that touch.

And, with the subtlety of lightening and thunder, that love, which I had long ago walled off, returned home.

(This is a photo of Vanessa and me from that day.)