My father smoked a lot and fished a lot. It wasn�t until much later in life that I realized not all fathers did this. Film can be developed in an hour. We�ve not created such a convenience for families. Time heals all wounds, except the slowly deteriorating relationship between my sister and I. When my grandfather died, neither of my parents seemed very upset. My sister binge drinks once or twice a week and yet my mother is more concerned with my caffeine consumption. I am not related to Jean Piaget. I had an adopted brother for a few months. One day, mysteriously, he was just gone. His room was turned into a library within the week and no one made any mention of what became of him. My mother would frequently complain to my father about the mercury levels in fish, as if my father had something to do with it. This was never a fun subject for either of them and yet it came up almost every night. Sometimes families develop a fondness for alcohol that I simply cannot fathom. The one time I went fishing with my father, I noticed a few drops of blood on his tackle box. When I brought it up, he muttered something about it being nail polish and that I should probably mind my own fucking business.
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