232: "LOVE"

I tend to fall on the strange side of life. Well, at least I think I do. Consider this:

A boy grows up in what essentially is a single parent household, yet the parents aren't divorced. They are separated by circumstances, or at least that's how the boy sees it. How can he see otherwise when the boy is told that the dad is away in a foreign country to garner income for his wife and son. And once in a while, the dad does come home to stay, with him, the whole family, together.

However, the man who was the boy can't remember if his dad and mom shared the same bed then.

The boy gets up one morning. Rubbing his goop encrusted eyes, he waddles towards the sound of a woman laughing. He opens the door and sees the dad lying on his stomach. Next to his languid body is kneeling a fully clothed lady, who broadens more her already wide smile. With a singsong voice she asks, "Did you get up?" Nodding yes, the boy waddles in for a hug. "Wanna see something?" she whispers into the boy's ear. As the boy nods, she yanks away the blanket, baring the dad's bottom. A gentle smack--her hand meets the flesh. The boy does the same, giggling uncontrollably. "Get up." The boy echoes the same, "get up, get up." And the room fills with Laughter...

Warmth.., and...

Light.

Yet, the man concedes that the memory of the heart may have colored the event with hues of a little stroll in the gentle spring rain or a bike ride through a crisp autumn's day. So, the man doubts and is unsure...

He's unsure if the word, "love," was ever exchanged between them...

God knows, I grew up without ever hearing it from them or using it to them. But I know it was there. Or is it again my heart's memory playing tricks on me?

I remember clearly, how the boy, while returning home from the zoo, held hands with both of his parents, urging them to lift him up, so that he could swing between them, like a little monkey he pretended to be.