It never occurred to her that I might go to sleep and decide none of this was worth it, pack all my things and leave...never to return. I mean, I know it all too well to not get axhausted of the same dance

I've lived two decades of complete contradiction. I know days when she used to plant seeds, water her garden and harvest the most amazing kinds of potatoes, spinach, carrots and strawberries too. Days, when she instilled in us the necessity to serve tea on a saucer over a tray with cup of sugar, a cup of warm milk and the shiniest teaspoon in the drawer to our father. To never look him in the eye, to receive whatever he gave with both hands, even magazines written in a foreign language. Days when I'd polish his shoes, when he was my Dad and deserved respect. Despite his untidiness and inability to cook or clean or do anything for himself really. When I used to be one of those people, with both parents living under one roof and having dinner and praying together before we slept . Days when I knew we never talk about stuff, but also thought it wasn't a bad idea either way. Because you know, we're family.

I also know days when none of this mattered anymore. When she'd demand we lock the gate and the door just before d add comes back from work. When we'd be told to cook and have our dinner, forget his plate because he didn't deserve to be served anything...never did. Days when we were...