Love means never having to say your sorry, even when it involves beating the crap out of your kids. How else are you going to get them to respect you unless they fear your arrival home.
memories
Neighborhood Memories
Wind rushing past, tugging at clothes and hair, sends the pulse racing until a collision with the dark loam reins in the momentary thrill. When you're ten, the consequences are easy to ignore: the grass stains, a scratch, a bruise. Jump to your feet, race back to the porch, climb the railing, and leap. A … Continue reading Neighborhood Memories