Misfortunes

We moved to Tennessee with a crying toddler, three suitcases, and a broken vacuum. I begged my wife to throw away the vacuum. A new one wouldn’t cost much. But hoarders can’t get rid of anything. I had to persuade her for a month to dispose of the dead squirrel that stunk up her office. She couldn’t let it die alone. I told her some things aren’t to be messed with. Squirrels deserve to die in peace. Not in a garbage bag on a dusty desk.

So it goes. A pair of dysfunctional parents raising a child, hoping their child will become perfect without tantrums, mental disorders, physical ailments, or grudges against them. My parents were no different. Mom had crippling anxiety after marrying dad, dad was a reckless alcoholic, and then they had me. They thought I’d turn out different and fed me lies. “You can grow up to be anything you want. Nothing can stop you,” my mom always told me. But almost everything did. My dad, the lack of money, debt, my mother’s cancer.

The only time I complained abou…