When I was a kid (around 10?) I would run away whenever someone in the house was really angry at me- i dunno, some flight reflex. The sound of my dad raising his voice at all still makes me choke up in intrinsic fear. Once, my dad came storming through the front hall where i was, yelling about something.... didn't even stop to listen, booked it straight out the front door into the Ohio autumn night and walked some woods trails with no shoes. He would come with a flashlight and look for me, out of concern, but I was a good hider as a kid. (I chalk me never being kidnapped up to that area of Ohio being a quiet suburb in the woods...)

When I did eventually come home this specific time, hours later, my feet were scratched up from walking on sticks and rocks on the trail... took a bath and my mom came into the bathroom, sat on the toilet with the lid closed, and said really quietly, "you don't deserve this, you know." (to come home and assume hospitality.) Not spitefully... she sounded weary.

I wonder if she even remembers saying it. I haven't forgotten. They're my parents, and they don't owe me anything. I know that...