lessons of our past

my mother was put up for adoption by young parents in a time when a child out of a wedlock was not allowed

she never looked up who they were.

my father was a young gay kid who was not accepted or maybe even loved by his father

his mother never told him that she loved him, I know.

(he said to me once on a family vacation when my sister was out of ear shot that his life's wish was to hear her tell him that she loved him. I wonder know if that was him working out the traumas of his own past.)

but as a kid, I saw that my parents didn't really love each other.

not because they didn't maybe, but maybe because they were never taught how.

and I grew up not feeling loved too.

which is funny.

to not feel loved in a family that is so desperate for it.

perhaps this is the generational thing

that I can change.