My Father
I was seven. I had never used an elevator before. I had never stood on a floor that cost more than our car.
He offered me a cookie on a plate I was afraid to touch. He wore a watch with numbers I didn't understand. He asked about school and I said fine because I didn't know what a daughter was supposed to say.
I just knew our house had holes in the walls and his had plants that lived.
I just knew the ride back down was longer than the ride up.
Broken Whiskey Lullaby — September 7.
Link in bio. 🥃
#BrokenWhiskeyLullaby #traumafiction #literaryfiction #childhoodtrauma #memoirinfiction
Reflecting on my own experiences, I can relate deeply to the feeling of stepping into an unfamiliar world as a child—one filled with complex emotions and the subtle contrasts between two different lives. The elevator scene in the narrative reminds me of a time when new environments felt intimidating because they symbolized the distance between who I was and who I was expected to be. The luxury floors and the strange watch with indecipherable numbers highlight a divide that isn’t just physical but emotional and social. I’ve found that such moments often linger in our memories, shaping how we see relationships, especially with parents who seem distant or different from us. The author’s mention of holes in their own house compared to the living plants in the father’s home evokes a sense of vulnerability and longing for stability or nurturing that might have been missing. This resonates with many who’ve felt a disconnect between their childhood realities and the idealized versions of family bonds. When the story describes the ride down feeling longer than the ride up, it captures a powerful metaphor for the aftermath of difficult encounters—returning to a familiar place often includes carrying emotional weight. This reflection connects well with themes of #childhoodtrauma and #memoirinfiction, as those early experiences can deeply influence adult perceptions and healing journeys. The linked project "Broken Whiskey Lullaby" suggests a broader exploration of trauma and reconciliation, and I appreciate how stories like this initiate conversations around difficult family dynamics. Sharing such personal narratives can empower readers to confront their own histories and find solace or solidarity. Overall, this piece is a compelling blend of literary fiction and raw emotional insight that invites readers to contemplate the complexities of family and identity through the lens of a child’s perspective.
