*
Like everyone else I guess, I got a complex relationship with my old man. Maybe that’s not true. Maybe it is as simple as we pretend it is. I don’t know. 
In a world where I’m like to cut you off at the knees soon as look at you, my old man gets a free ride. He’s done his share of stupid, selfish things, but I don’t have a bone to pick with him. He’s given his love freely, and he’s been what I always wanted to be in a man. 
Whatever that means.
*
My own road as a parent has been a revelation. Of the wildest, deepest, most disturbing joy. Watching the way my own shortcomings bind and wound my child. The illusion of happiness, and happiness itself.
Grief and bitterness.
Consternation.
*
In the end it’s all indistinguishable from love.
*
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