The Quest for Paradise

I rubbed at my eyes. All the numbers on the screen were running together. There were many things about being an archaeologist that were fun, but cataloging and assigning reference numbers to artifacts was not one of them.

Something blurped on the screen in front of me and looking down I saw I had a message. In need of anything to distract me from the blurry data streams of endless digital paperwork I moved my mouse to click on the blinking icon.

Instantly I regretted my action. On a silent groan of dreaded expectation I clicked on the email that had my father's name on it.

Whatever it was that he wanted of me was already pressing on my mind with restrictive force. More words of anger as to my choices in life which he was of the opinion had been poor ones?

Oh he'd encouraged me to pursue archaeology, but specializing in biblical archaeology had not been to his liking. Now as I scanned over the brief message I found myself rather shocked by it.

The message was rather non-accusatory and strangest of all he wanted my help with something of importance, 'Hey Sam I've got something important for you. Something that actually uses your field of expertise. Looks like you were right after all. How about we catch some dinner at Roberto's tonight, say 7 o'clock? Love, Dad.'

I stared at the screen in a mixture of hope and something akin to hatred, because of the emotions the simple message had evoked within me. Hope in the sense that my father wanted my help with something as I'd always sought to please him that is up until a few years ago.

Hate because I felt myself falling into the trap that I'd been thrown into far too many times already in my life. The trap of wanting to please my father in order to receive love in return. It never worked out like that though and instead I always ended up feeling used.

Despite knowing all that I did I helplessly watched my fingers move as if remotely upon the keyboard, "See you at 7:00 Dad." My mouse clicked and the Send button flashed.

Oh no, did I really click the send button! Yep, I had, as I confirmed by checking my sent email folder.

Silently despairing of ever managing to wean myself away from the influences of negative people of prominence in my life I clicked on the return email that had already popped up, "See you later baby girl."

I stared at the brief reply in wonderment. Just what did he want?

What was his line, 'Looks like you were right after all', about?