By the time we began to understand enough about what the world to ask the right questions, our visit is over, and someone else is visiting, asking the same questions.
...some nights I'd sneak out and listen to the radio in my Dad's old Chevy - children need solitude - they don't teach that in school...
Eventually, however, the denial turned into emptiness and my childhood ended.
In the life of everyone there is a limited number of experiences which are not written upon the memory, but stamped there with a die; and in the long years after, they can be called up in detail, and every emotion that was stirred by them can be lived through anew; these are the tragedies of life.
My dad had limitations. That's what my good-hearted mom always told us. He had limitations, but he meant no harm. It was kind of her to say, but he did do harm.
Those are the things we really seek in one another: As kids, we seek those who enjoy the same games and define fun the same way we do. As we get a bit older and our childhoods are robbed - all childhoods are robbed or broken; it is usually a sudden, violent transformation - we seek out those who relate to our transition. As teenagers, we rebel and we attempt to create a new reality. As young adults, we look to recapture it all and find the person who can relate to all of it, and we add a shade of shallowness to it. As adults, we come to the realization that we have been trying to recapture the simplicity of the purest form of love - happy love. We look for someone who can pull us out of the darkness of adulthood and ignite the simple, childish joys of life.
My childhood memories seem to be wreathed in the twin and far from harmonious olfactory sensations of patchouli oil and caustic soda.