My Father's Hands
Large or small? Soft or rough? I don't know.
They held bottle after bottle. Held a gun to my mother's head, playing russian roulette. Smashed her body, time and again. Held her back. Kept her down. Could have killed her, but that would have been too easy. Killed her spirit.
Neither will kill mine.
Large or small? Soft or rough? I don't know.
They held bottle after bottle. Held a gun to my mother's head, playing russian roulette. Smashed her body, time and again. Held her back. Kept her down. Could have killed her, but that would have been too easy. Killed her spirit.
Neither will kill mine.
Comments
I was inspired by Deb's piece because she knows so much about her father's hands whereas I know so little, but what I do know isn't nice or what a father's hands should be.
He died 30 years ago this January and for much of the past 30 years, my mother continued to let him control her which has had a profound impact on my life and my relationship with her. I am so thankful that I am in a place in my life where no one (except mom!) is trying to control me any longer. I fought against that for so long and finally broke free of it in 2004.
Im glad you wrote about your father's hands, too.