Family is… forever?
To understand me.. I guess we have to go back to the beginning… It all started when I was a child, I was like most children, really. Or, at least children with happy families. My parents loved each other, it was obvious with the way my dad would dance my mom around the kitchen or how she’d smile and laugh even when my father’s jokes weren’t funny. And my mom looked like every mom from fifties, always wearing dresses or housecoats as some would, she’d have dinner on the table every night at five o’clock sharp, anyone who late would get a stern talking to but she’d still dote on you. My dad was handsome, a lawyer, made good money, came home and played with me, helped my mom in the kitchen, never smoked or drank much but the occasional glass of wine. It was perfect. It was all.. beautiful.. it made me long for those moments. Those moments of… fantasy. I didn’t remember my parents. I didn’t have memories of my father dancing my mother around the kitchen or her cooking pot roast for f...