The Men In My Life
the old pictures have faded a bit....
..and the corners are torn
...I never was a 'daddy's girl'. Nor a momma's girl, while we're on the whole subject.
But I remember an instance in the house while my parents were going through their divorce one summer (right before their 23rd wedding anniversary, mind you), I was fifteen and my older brother, Ryan, was eighteen at the time, that I found a new parental outlook.
Now, just a side note, but I'm not bashing my parents because I figure they did the best they could, with their dull witted ways anyway, but I'm not an angry kid or anything.
I just remember this being one of the stupid memories, one that made me cry probably too much at the time.
But I know that it happened about 1:45 in the afternoon, and Ryan is screaming downstairs at my dad "go suck a dick in hell": "fuck you"; "slut": you know, all the wonderful things boys do yell at their fathers at one time or another. My nine-year-old sister and her friend were listening from her room, getting their first education on such crude vocabulary. (Strange...I don't remember ever seeing that friend again...)
In the end, Ryan ends up kicked out of the house, banging on the door and still screaming curse words.
Now, we lived in a neighborhood, one with houses everywhere and our neighbors kids were outside riding their bikes, some mowing the lawn, and others just driving by.
...in the end, I spent two hours cleaning the house on my dad's order (my mother was gone at the time) and all the while he was spouting off how unhappy he was with life, with his wife, with his children, and how I was screwed when it came to going to school, being that I didn't know where I'd be living when my mother moved out.
Anyway.
SOmehow, after my mother came home, we ended up with a broken phone, dialed 911, Ryan got back into the house, yanked my dad up out of a light sleep, cursed insanely loud once again, and threatened murder.
And in the end, I remember myself getting shoved out of the house by my dad after Ryan left. I was petrified.
And the reason?
.......I couldn't tell you why he kicked me out, except that he was just full o' rage.
I still don't answer his call the times that he does try to call my phone. How immature or not that is on my part, I don't know.
It'll probably get me in a regretful and guilt ridden situation. That's just how my luck flows.
Not that I'm bitter or anything.
..and the corners are torn
...I never was a 'daddy's girl'. Nor a momma's girl, while we're on the whole subject.
But I remember an instance in the house while my parents were going through their divorce one summer (right before their 23rd wedding anniversary, mind you), I was fifteen and my older brother, Ryan, was eighteen at the time, that I found a new parental outlook.
Now, just a side note, but I'm not bashing my parents because I figure they did the best they could, with their dull witted ways anyway, but I'm not an angry kid or anything.
I just remember this being one of the stupid memories, one that made me cry probably too much at the time.
But I know that it happened about 1:45 in the afternoon, and Ryan is screaming downstairs at my dad "go suck a dick in hell": "fuck you"; "slut": you know, all the wonderful things boys do yell at their fathers at one time or another. My nine-year-old sister and her friend were listening from her room, getting their first education on such crude vocabulary. (Strange...I don't remember ever seeing that friend again...)
In the end, Ryan ends up kicked out of the house, banging on the door and still screaming curse words.
Now, we lived in a neighborhood, one with houses everywhere and our neighbors kids were outside riding their bikes, some mowing the lawn, and others just driving by.
...in the end, I spent two hours cleaning the house on my dad's order (my mother was gone at the time) and all the while he was spouting off how unhappy he was with life, with his wife, with his children, and how I was screwed when it came to going to school, being that I didn't know where I'd be living when my mother moved out.
Anyway.
SOmehow, after my mother came home, we ended up with a broken phone, dialed 911, Ryan got back into the house, yanked my dad up out of a light sleep, cursed insanely loud once again, and threatened murder.
And in the end, I remember myself getting shoved out of the house by my dad after Ryan left. I was petrified.
And the reason?
.......I couldn't tell you why he kicked me out, except that he was just full o' rage.
I still don't answer his call the times that he does try to call my phone. How immature or not that is on my part, I don't know.
It'll probably get me in a regretful and guilt ridden situation. That's just how my luck flows.
Not that I'm bitter or anything.
posted by Sarah at 11:48 PM
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