A Man Enough

This is the dynamic between my parents and me—a cool truce no one mentions, but exists as clearly as a wall. My father behaved as if he would never be old or weak and would always have the upper hand, the right answer. Now I want to know the truth about him, but to ask would be to force my parents to admit that I am a grownup and fully aware of his vulnerability.

I could ask so many questions now, before the door I have opened closes with this phone call, but I do not. Where did you think we would go when we grew up, if not into the world? Were we not doomed to fail you, to hear the sound of our adult selves and make our own choices? How did you believe you would never grow old or weak or be wrong? I wish I was brave enough to fight harder and insist on answers, or be braver still and be the one to forge a new relationship with my parents that is honest and open and adult. I could keep calling, every week, until my mother lets me in.

But I am not that brave.

by Anne Rieman, TMN |  Read more:

Image: F. Luis Mora, 1901