bill
I'm lucky. I've got two fantastic, loving parents. Like everyone, they've got their foibles, but the foibles get swarmed into insignificance by loving intentions.
My mum cries a lot. She cries at weddings. She cried at the end of an IMAX 3D movie. Every time she visited me in hospital, she'd make me feel awful by choking up. She cried with me at the dinner table after my girlfriend broke up with me.
My dad often doesn't know what to say when things go wrong, but he tries to offer advice anyway. The advice will be laughably off the mark, and extremely clichéd, so much so that you can't help but briefly break into a good mood because you know he's being so sincerely good hearted.
My dad has a wonderful mother, but he wasn't fortunate enough to have two loving parents. My grandfather was a reasonably well known poet; we studied one of his poems in a primary school class. My classmates jokingly said that we must be related because we shared the same last name, and they only believed that he actually was my grandad when I brought in some newspaper clippings.
My dad isn't proud of him. He hardly speaks about him. When he does, he is bitter and only ever calls him by his first name. Tonight, my sister was playfully talking about long lost relatives at the dinner table. That spurred my dad into admitting something new to us. He has a half brother. He said that he probably has more half siblings as well. He didn't look like he wanted to know about them.
My mum cries a lot. She cries at weddings. She cried at the end of an IMAX 3D movie. Every time she visited me in hospital, she'd make me feel awful by choking up. She cried with me at the dinner table after my girlfriend broke up with me.
My dad often doesn't know what to say when things go wrong, but he tries to offer advice anyway. The advice will be laughably off the mark, and extremely clichéd, so much so that you can't help but briefly break into a good mood because you know he's being so sincerely good hearted.
My dad has a wonderful mother, but he wasn't fortunate enough to have two loving parents. My grandfather was a reasonably well known poet; we studied one of his poems in a primary school class. My classmates jokingly said that we must be related because we shared the same last name, and they only believed that he actually was my grandad when I brought in some newspaper clippings.
My dad isn't proud of him. He hardly speaks about him. When he does, he is bitter and only ever calls him by his first name. Tonight, my sister was playfully talking about long lost relatives at the dinner table. That spurred my dad into admitting something new to us. He has a half brother. He said that he probably has more half siblings as well. He didn't look like he wanted to know about them.
posted by Gene at 8:23 pm
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