The mother who held me and dried my tears was the same mother who swatted my bottom when I dumped a bowl of oatmeal on the dog’s head.
The father who took away my roller skates for three whole days was the same father who always let me win at Candyland.
The brother who closed me in a room with burning sulpher from his chemistry set, to see if I would turn yellow was the same brother who put the worm on the my hook when we went fishing.
The sister who ignored me when she was with her friends was the same sister who brought me a piece of cake when I was being punished.
The best friend who sat faithfully by my side every day of summer vacation while my broken leg healed was the same best friend who blabbed to everyone that I loved Tony.
The boy who hit me in the back of the head with a slushy snowball was the same boy who looked to me for praise when he produced the loudest burp in second grade.
The dog who chewed the arm off my favorite doll was the same dog who always greeted me with tail wagging and lots of slobbery kisses.
I am a survivor of love.