As the word goes out that the fluffy old man is coming, suddenly everyone remembers having parents and has to be good, love them, and go home. Where is home? To mom and dad, if you’re lucky.
To whom? To those two whom you accuse the rest of the year that they broke you inside when you were a child, that they spank you, or that they didn’t have enough money to buy you more dolls. Or that they didn’t spank you enough or that they had too much money but too little affection to give. And it’s your problem if you didn’t understand by now that, most likely, these people did their best. And it’s your problem if their best isn’t enough for you. I challenge you to do better than they could.
To whom? To those two that you avoid for the rest of the year, with the thought and the deed and wrinkle your nose every time their name appears on the phone screen… oh, what else do they want this time? I’ll tell you, bro, if you still haven’t figured it out: so they know you are well. No matter what words are being said at the other end.
To whom? To those two who have outdated and communist views and “terrorize” you every time with their standards that are no longer modern. Don’t you understand why they “terrorize” you? I’ll tell you, bro, if you still haven’t figured it out: so they know you are well. And it’s your problem if you don’t know how to tell them you’re okay, not by their standards, but by yours. But are you sure you’re okay?
To whom? To those two who are still trying to control your life and keep telling you to settle down, have a steady job, get married at the town hall, and the church and have at least two kids. Don’t you understand why? I’ll tell you, bro, if you still haven’t figured it out: so they know you are at least safe. Cause they know that they won’t be here forever, and they would want to make sure you don’t walk around homeless, starving, unprotected, and howling with loneliness. And it’s your problem if you think that means they don’t trust you. Maybe they don’t trust themselves, and all you have to do is tell them to stay calm, that they did a good job. Plus, to set limits, because no one can control you without your consent, what, are you dead in your own life?
To whom? To those two who gave you life. And it’s your problem if that’s not enough in your head. For everyone has the right to choose … so, you’re kind of fucking lucky you are.
So if you have the privilege of having parents still alive, I’d say that rather than filling the country’s roads and loving them only at Christmas, you’d better fill your head for the rest of the year with good thoughts towards them, your soul with love and hugs, be they virtual. And if you have the power, just imagine for a second that you don’t have that privilege anymore. I don’t have that power. And you certainly don’t have the power to turn back time, so enjoy your privilege while you have it!
