There are some things I just don’t get, you know? Science. Gum- what is it, and why do I like it so much? Some math, although my mom would have a second opinion on that one. I’m only 11; how much should I know? But, my parents themselves is what’s such a mystery to me.
My dad, see, he doesn’t go to work like everyone else’s dad. Sometimes he gets dressed, sometimes he stays home. I don’t know what he does. My mom’s a doctor. I just can’t tell you what my dad does. But every morning, no matter what he’s wearing, while my mom is making me breakfast, he comes up from behind and just holds my mom. I think I can hear him taking a deep breath too, like he’s smelling her. I don’t know what that’s about but, it isn’t something that’s strange. I’m just a kid but even I can tell that it’s meant to be…beautiful.
He always then helps my mom finish making breakfast then join us at the table. My parents talk but not boring grown up talk. They include me in it too. They both love cartoons and talk about stuff they found on the internet they’d like. My dad got me into video games so we play all the time. My mom bought me a set of her favorite book collection about a young wizard boy and the school of magic he goes to. My dad loves to read, he’s my go-to for English homework.
At night, when all my homework is done, and the three of us are watching TV, my mom is always sitting so close to my dad. She’s got her head against his chest the way doctors listen for heartbeats. My dad always has his hand in my mom’s hair, and there’s a lot of it. I call my mom Rapunzel sometimes. They laugh at the jokes, sometimes whisper things to each other, but they’re never apart. Sometimes, even in public, they hold hands. They don’t know it yet but when they have to let go for whatever reason, I can tell they can’t wait to be holding each other again.
My parents talk a lot, mostly jokes and about me; the future, I think. But when they aren’t talking I can still hear them speaking. No two snowflakes are the same, according to Mrs Davis the science teacher, so I guess since my friends don’t talk about their parents this way, no two loves are the same? Some parents yell at each other. Some hit one another, with hands or other things. My parents? They can’t shut up, but I like hearing what they have to say.