It is July, and I am six years old, running down the shoreline with the type of energy that only the young and can have. My mother was chasing me, and it had become a fun game. I knew that she was letting me win, but it didn't matter. I only wanted to run harder to prove I could do it alone. I heard a scream and a crash. I looked back, only to see that my father had tackled my mother into the blue surf.
She came up sputtering and laughing. She tried to look angry, but I knew that she wasn't. She pulled him back into the water and they spent a few moments trying to one up each other. I saw their lips meet for a moment, and blushed. I muttered under my breath, but was secretly pleased to see that my parents liked each other. No, loved each other. Being six, I am sure I did not understand what that meant, but I was aware that what they had was something rare and precious. In any case, I had never seen any other parents act that way.
A child of about my age came up beside me while my parents were dragging themselves from the water. "Eww, that's gross!"
"It is not." I told him. I was not sure why I said it, I was only sure that I was right. Knowing that, however, made me feel sad. I knew that few would agree with me. I could see reproving looks from other adults on the beach. My parents did not care, but I did. I did not understand that they were jealous of my parents happiness, and distressed at their impropriety. God forbid that anyone show affection for one another out of their own homes.
I continued playing that day, but never forgot the small kiss my parents shared. It seemed to cement their entire relationship. It was easy, it was fun, it had its ups and down, but it was right on a fundamental level that few can grasp. If true love exists, that is what my parents had. From the moment they met each other, they were no longer alone. It is what most people search for, or play at.
I longed for so true a bond, but understood inherently that in being born from such a pair, I was probably destined to never find it. The daughter shall not inheret the sins of her father, Nor, it seemed, his virtues.
She came up sputtering and laughing. She tried to look angry, but I knew that she wasn't. She pulled him back into the water and they spent a few moments trying to one up each other. I saw their lips meet for a moment, and blushed. I muttered under my breath, but was secretly pleased to see that my parents liked each other. No, loved each other. Being six, I am sure I did not understand what that meant, but I was aware that what they had was something rare and precious. In any case, I had never seen any other parents act that way.
A child of about my age came up beside me while my parents were dragging themselves from the water. "Eww, that's gross!"
"It is not." I told him. I was not sure why I said it, I was only sure that I was right. Knowing that, however, made me feel sad. I knew that few would agree with me. I could see reproving looks from other adults on the beach. My parents did not care, but I did. I did not understand that they were jealous of my parents happiness, and distressed at their impropriety. God forbid that anyone show affection for one another out of their own homes.
I continued playing that day, but never forgot the small kiss my parents shared. It seemed to cement their entire relationship. It was easy, it was fun, it had its ups and down, but it was right on a fundamental level that few can grasp. If true love exists, that is what my parents had. From the moment they met each other, they were no longer alone. It is what most people search for, or play at.
I longed for so true a bond, but understood inherently that in being born from such a pair, I was probably destined to never find it. The daughter shall not inheret the sins of her father, Nor, it seemed, his virtues.
