Wells Penn

There was a freezer in the closet.

It had been there my whole life, humming steadily, quiet and low. I wasn’t allowed to touch it. My mother kept it locked up; the door closed and wouldn’t speak of it. If I ever worked up the courage to ask, the answer remained the same: “Not today.”

I was young, playing and growing, exploring the small world that I lived in, spending time with my mom and family. And the freezer sat there as other children’s old toys sat, unseen, untouched, unheard. Like the Christmas closet, or a birthday cake box. I knew what was in there, and yet I wasn’t allowed to see.

My dad.

I had never met him. He was on ice long before I was born. I had no memory of his face or voice, no fondness or love. He was a stranger to me. Even though I never knew these feelings, I always felt them missing. Life without him was just life. Ordinary and sometimes heavy. 

The days became harder and harder to get through. Overwhelmed and helpless, I felt like I had nowhere to go. And for the first time in many months, I thought of the freezer, sitting alone in the closet, hiding a frozen man whom I had never met.

I had nothing to lose, and nowhere to turn. I walked slowly down the hallway, approaching the closet. I was shaking, my heartbeat felt in my stomach. When I reached the end of the hallway, I reached out and turned the handle to the door of the closet. It was unlocked. I pulled open the door to see a large freezer, standing upright with a fogged up glass door.

I hesitated. What if he wasn’t real? What if nothing happened?

My voice cracked as she whispered into the hum: “Dad… I don’t know you. But I need you.”

The door slowly opened.

Cold air poured out, stinging my eyes. Fog spilled across the floor. At first, silence. Then—a sound like ice splintering. Fingers twitched. A chest rose.

I stumbled back as his eyes opened.

He blinked slowly, then found me with his gaze. No confusion. Just recognition. A twinkle in his eye, and a smile on his face. He sat up, swung his legs over the side, and drew in a deep breath, as though waking from the longest sleep.

For a moment, we just stared at each other. No words came to me, and yet the pain in my chest began to shrink. I felt a feeling that was new. Safety? Or Comfort? Or maybe relief. 

He crouched so their eyes were level, his voice gentle but steady.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I don’t even know you,” I exhaled.

And as he reached out to pull me into a hug, I heard him say back, “You will.”