Diametrical Daddies

By Hannah Andrews
I have two fathers. I also have zero fathers.

I’ve only known one of my fathers, at least, consciously. Maybe some cute guitar-playing dude sang songs to me while I bounced about inside my natural mother’s belly bump, but if so, I cannot access that memory.

So, let’s start this story with the father who was chronologically, technically Father#2, the first one I consciously knew. The one I once (or maybe several times) gave a #1 Dad coffee mug to.

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