I remember being 9-years-old.
1967. Derby, Connecticut. Direnzio Heights. Bradley School.
I remember the marital strife, the constant bickering and the occasional violence, even though I loved practically everything else around me in that long ago, one-time environment.
And when it was my turn to make like a parent, I spared my kids the torment and the uncertainty that was my childhood on all too many occasions. But these days, I feel as if I'm seeing history repeated. Or, some such unexplainable thing.
Happy birthday, Zach.
Later
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