the luckiest.

There is a conversation going on around me. I am actively listening, but not actively participating. I've not got the right to say anything.

We are sitting on the back porch of an apartment in Charlotte. It's late, I think. Or maybe the evening just got off to an early start. It's dark, and there are slugs crawling along the brick. It is neither too hot nor too cool, which I only surmise later based on the fact that I don't remember what the temperature was like.

What were we talking about? Having children? Or maybe not having children? Maybe it was wanting children later, but being really happy about not having them now. I was a part of that conversation, but at some point it shifted from being about having children to having parents. I'm certainly qualified to talk about that, but we, or rather they, were talking about parents that I have no experience with.

I have never been afraid that my parents would cause physical harm to myself, themselves, or each other. I have never called the cops on them during a fight. I have never attempted to talk a parent out of having another drink. I have never had to make myself english muffin pizzas for dinner because the one parent I relied upon was working late. I have never had to act as parent for a sibling or had a sibling act as parent for me. I have been lucky.

I sat on the brick half-wall and tried not to squish slugs. I did not say anything. I was witnessing a bonding experience between those who had shouldered adult responsibilities as children. I listened and wondered how anyone would ever come out of that sort of childhood to be a functioning member of society. Apparently they do. I suppose that I was part of that bonding experience, too, but I was definitely outside looking in. I had good parents, two of them, and a stable, carefree childhood. Being on the outside never felt so good.