Learning about Love
A short memoir about how life taught me what love is and what it is not
I often wonder who I am and why I survived to older age. I never expected to. After all, I was born to parents who taught me how much better off all their lives would be, and the lives of the rest of the world would be, too if I simply did not exist. They professed their love for me, and how I should be grateful they kept me at home with them instead of at an institution..
They rarely showed it. Love that is. They didn’t really know what the word meant. After all, it is said that actions speak louder than words, so their words meant nothing to me after their actions had taken their toll.
I’m nearly seventy now, with soft white hair and laughter lines around my eyes and mouth. I have to pinch myself that I am still here, alive, in this body. I’ve even still got my own teeth, just about. I’ve been told they are hanging on by a thread. Like me, really, too, hanging on by a thread most of my life.
It appears nowadays that many people appreciate me, or my writing, and I am valuable to their lives. It is an interesting conundrum. After all your parents are supposed to be your greatest cheerleaders.
I tested the world out, though, as a kid. I decided to challenge God to let me die if that was what…
