I remember all those times sitting in my car behind the steering wheel with nowhere to go. But at least I was out of that house and away from the constant yelling and belittling and the game of choosing sides. And it was quiet, but I wasn't free. Memories of Sundays and a white box from the bakery tied with a thin red and white string. Hot coffee with mostly milk for me with a lot of sugar. Dad reading movie stars names from the back of Parade magazine that came with the paper and we'd guess their age. Mom would say, "Oh, I didn't know he got so old."
I didn't know any of the names but I played along because I belonged. There was no yelling then, just opened windows and a warm breeze coming through the screen and hours for breakfast and no one ever wanted to leave the table. We loved each other too much.
