It always started with screaming, but it often ended in silence — for days or weeks.
On this particular night, I was in the kitchen when it started. I was about 14 years old. I don’t remember what made my father angry, but I know it was minor. It was always minor with him.
I might have used a tone he didn’t like. I might have forgotten to take out the trash. I might have forgotten to put a load of clothes into the dryer. As an adult, I now understand these are fairly minor things, but when I was a child, everything I did wrong was a cardinal sin — when he was in this mood.
I always forced myself to be completely calm. I wore a blank expression. Any sign of disagreement with him — or talking back to him in any way — would increase his fury. All I could do was stand like a statue and hope it would end soon.

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Economic Man needs no heart, because love and God are dead
My bad teen poetry suggests I’ve always hungered for missing love
Would life be better without news? Maybe it’s all just distracting trivia
I feel anger toward those who casually resent life I wish I had
Understanding often matters more than solving someone’s problems
Cancer diagnosis forces you to decide what really matters in life
Existing biases dictate how you see grand jury decision in Ferguson, Mo.
Personal growth feeds a romance, but lack of honesty destroys love