A Fathers Love
I remember my Dad with a distant love as a child. Stoically masculine, a reserved contemplative man, I maintained disdain for my Father figure.
When we relocated to New Mexico from Austin, when I was 14, and shortly after we arrived, I found myself in a fist fight on the main drag, which quickly escalated into me and 8 other teenagers. Needless to say, I was on the losing end of that battle.
I hobbled home, and my Mom and Dad worried over me, and against my objections, filed charges against the leader of the fray. Two weeks later, I disregarded my parents restriction, and back on the drag I went. I was and have been always rebellious and willful.
That night, to my horror and fear, I saw Mom and Dad in the parking lot where I had been jumped. They looked out of place and too old to be there, but they didn't care.
I don't know of it was Mom or Dad who decided to go to Weinerschnitzel, but I know they went because it hurt them that their son had been in so much pain. They were out there to protect me, and to mKe a difference. I have never forgotten that sight.
That is love. #climbaboveparkinsons