I sometimes wonder about my parents. I can’t imagine what it means to be responsible for another person’s life, and not doing any of it for mere obligation, rather, for something more- because you love that person.
I know my parents love me. I think I scare them sometimes.
But I think it’s scarier for them to feel responsible, actually responsible for certain things, even if it’s something beyond their control.
Dad has really dry skin. His legs and arms look quite scaly at times, very leathery. It’s from always working outside, not caring much for sunscreen. In the last few years, he’s finally started to use lotion, but it seems to be too late.
Recently Dad asked me if my legs were like his, dry and scaly. He seemed truly concerned. I said no.
Truth is, my skin is on the way to becoming like his. Similar bad habits, I suppose; that, and the fact that I have naturally dry skin. I used to have rash spots when I was younger.
So last week, I bought a pumice stone for skin. I’m also using it this time, trying it on my legs for now to see if it’ll help get rid of some scaliness. I’ve also become more serious about using lotion.
Also recently, Dad got some serious news. “Hereditary” is the word.
I’m just glad that he didn’t cry for the second time in my life, not for this.
I wonder sometimes, what else lies in my family history. For now, I’m doing my best to keep to God, so that this won’t become a tool that further separates me from others. Hunters often like to isolate their prey from the pack.
It’s a constant struggle, but perhaps strength of determination and hope are in my family history.