when you were small

when i was little
i was fierce.
i was stubborn.
and
boy oh boy
i was bossy.

i often got into
trouble.
i was punished
a lot.
the phrase
wait until
your father get's home!
was often uttered.
and
it struck
a chord of deep fear
in the pit
of my stomach.

as i get older
i often wonder
what kind
of parent
i would be.
should i be
a parent at all?
i am
still much
like that little girl
that got into
so much
trouble.



parents make
so many mistakes
and
their children
hold it against
them for
a long long time.
often
for their whole lives.

that terrifies me.

there was
a duality in my home.
my mother was
the nurturer.
the giver.
she always said yes.
my father was
the punisher.
the enforcer.
he often said no.

needless to say
it was far
more difficult
to get along
with my father
than my mother.

i wonder,
who will i be?
like my mother
or
like my father?

the older
i get,
the better
i understand
my father's perspective.
as a teacher
i find myself
in the role
of the enforcer,
trying desperately
to prepare
my students
for what's ahead
of them...
so much of it
comes out
of what
i have learned
from
my own mistakes
and
shortcomings.

and this is why
my father
was so tough on me.

my father
has often said
{paraphrased},

Fathers try to express their love
by concealing their shyness with gruffness,
as in Kenneth Fearing's
Any Man's Advice to His Son,
written during WWII,
which ends:

I tell you this because I remember you when you were small,
And because I remember all your monstrous infant boasts and lies,
And the way you smiled, and how you ran and climbed, as no one else quite did, and how you fell and were bruised,
And because there is no other person, anywhere on earth, who remembers these things as clearly as I do now.

i often
wish i had
listened better.
that aside, i can
at the very least say
thank you.

happy father's day.