In line at the post office, I talked to a man.
He told me he went down south to pick up his dad
who, suffering from dementia, was in a bad place.
The man told me his dad has fits of rage, falls down,
gets hurt, wanders off, police has to be called.
I asked the man if he could take care of himself
in the midst of all this.
He said, “I always thought it weak to take pills,
now I take a Valium every morning
just to make it through the day”
He told me his mom raised her kids by herself.
“What about your dad?” I asked
“I was terrified of my dad,” he said
“and glad when he left.
He beat my mom and us children too.
I was very scared of him then.”
“And now you’re taking care of him?”
The man said, simply, “he’s my dad....”.
