I too have had moments of wanting one of the good parents. Ones who weren’t selfish. Ones who didn’t make up what really happened in my childhood and teen hood ( is that a word) People who say “my
Mom is my best friend”, my dad was always “there for me”. But they aren’t and they weren’t. I rarely hear , especially in high school “my mom was a drunk, my dad ignored us and also drank”. No. We hid our families. We pretended we were raised by achievers not wolves. But behind those doors, coming home after school, the first step in the door could determine our fate.
I seem to be inspired to write about these experiences when I see yours. It’s hard for me to find my voice sometimes. Your poetic prose is a lifeline to writing.
I too have had moments of wanting one of the good parents. Ones who weren’t selfish. Ones who didn’t make up what really happened in my childhood and teen hood ( is that a word) People who say “my
Mom is my best friend”, my dad was always “there for me”. But they aren’t and they weren’t. I rarely hear , especially in high school “my mom was a drunk, my dad ignored us and also drank”. No. We hid our families. We pretended we were raised by achievers not wolves. But behind those doors, coming home after school, the first step in the door could determine our fate.
Ah, Kris, this is painful to hear. And so true.
I seem to be inspired to write about these experiences when I see yours. It’s hard for me to find my voice sometimes. Your poetic prose is a lifeline to writing.
I’d love to see you write your story.