Someone at OD posted this survey about how people interact with their parents. (If you can't read it, and want the questions, let me know.)

I never met my biological father, and my mother's first husband was a classic abuser's offspring. He'd wave a baton in front of your face, and yell, and then go curl up in a ball because he was so mortified that he was becoming like his own father. He never actually hit me, though he did tell me, when my mother and I were leaving for California in 1981, that he'd hunt me down and kill me. The rational part of my brain knows that this was an idle threat, a last dig. The irrational part of me still freezes whenever a beige classic beetle comes into view, or my name is spoken in a certain inflection.

I am lucky, though, that her second husband, whom she's been married to for 20 years now, is a wonderful caring man, and while I will never call him “Dad,” and it took me more than 15 of those 20 years to get to the point where I could tell him I love him, I'm a much better person for having him in my life.

I've been through stages where I've sworn I'd never speak to my mother, and I've been through stages where we've gone out for coffee every Saturday morning. That's all pretty normal, I guess.

There really isn't any point to this entry. Just thoughts sparked by a survey.