Meet the parent(s)

Image: Caleb George

How do you talk to yourself when you‘ve — erm — gone to the dark side?

Do you talk to yourself like a best bud, throwing a tight arm over your shoulder and telling yourself, with a chuckle, that it’s all gonna be alright?

Or *record scratch* do you talk to yourself like your parents used to talk to you when you did something wrong?

Yep. That’s what I do. I did it just the other day. Out loud.

It usually happens when I can’t find my keys. This furiates me. I feel like such a bozo. And I do it.. All… The &^%$*(+ time.

Somehow, I was able to freeze time and space, Matrix-style, zoom out, and see myself doing it. I couldn’t believe how the words coming out of my mouth were not mine. Nope…

They were my old man’s.

My dad was a great guy. But he was gruff. And he cussed like a sailor. When I pissed him off, he did not mince words.

And there I was. Not mincing words. Directed straight at myself. Even the inflection and faded southern accent were there.

Maybe it’s time to reverse this.

Maybe it’s time the sins of the father cease to be passed on to the son.

Maybe it’s time to talk to ourselves like we deserve to be talked to. With respect, humor, and a good-spirit.

Maybe it’s time.

Now… Where are my damn keys?


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