Day 11: The Worst Trait I’ve Inherited From My Parents
20 to go
Is it just a bad photo or is my dad’s expression incredibly telling? There was ten years between him and Mum. When they met, Mum already had three kids to her first husband.
My dad became a father when he was barely twenty; that’s far too young to take on three children who weren’t yours. I’d like to believe this is why he never won any father of the year awards, and why now, I have nothing to do with him.
Memories from my childhood are virtually non-existent, I joke about this being because a big red fire truck fell on my head and gave me a concussion.
I have few happy memories of my father. I remember making chocolate spiders with him while we holidayed in an old lighthouse cottage. I remember sprinkling chopped up olives over a focaccia we baked together while we holidayed in a farm cottage.
That’s it. That’s all I remember.
I remember a lot of some not-so-precious memories. Like the time I walked in on Mum and Dad fighting. Dad had mum pinned down beneath him, and held a broken lampshade to her throat.
Or the time where my childhood dog went missing and I couldn’t stop crying. My father boxed my ears in order to stop me from crying, or to ‘give me something to really cry about.’
In short, my dad wasn’t a great person.
There’s two things I inherited from him.
One, I am thankful for. My beautiful blue eyes.
It would’ve meant I was safe during Hitler’s time — Sorry, this is always what I think of when people comment on how blue they are.
And two, my schadenfreude.
schadenfreude / noun: pleasure derived by someone from another person’s misfortune.
I can’t help it. It makes me sound like a horrible person but let’s say, I’m walking down the street with mum and she trips over… I’ll end up in hysterical fits of laugher.
No matter who I’m with, no matter where I am, I do my best to hold it back,— breathe deeply, don’t laugh — check if they’re okay and then once they are, I practically fall to the ground laughing.
Who knows? Maybe I didn’t get this trait from my father at all. Maybe it was because when we were younger, we’d plonk ourselves in front of the TV and watch what felt like hours of America’s Funniest Home Videos.
Mum always said my dad used to laugh at others’ falling over, so it’s assumed I inherited this trait from him. Either way, it’s not a great trait to have…
Another thing I love doing that my dad also loved was scaring people.
Even now, if I’m in the right place at the right time, and Carl doesn’t know I’m lurking just outside the bathroom, I’ll jump out and scare the living shit out of him when he gets out of the shower.
Scaring others and seeing others trip brings me more joy than it should. I have a severe case of schadenfreude and I blame this entirely on my father.
What’s not to love about this challenge? Dig deep, dredge up that trauma, tell me all about your life, your fears, your loves, your accomplishments, your everythings. And don’t forget to check out others’ responses:
Robert G. Longpré – [he/him] – Canadian métis
redkitewrites — for some entirely bizarre and inexplicable reason, I cannot search for your name. Please tag me in your stories so I can acess them. Medium is being a dick.
Late to the game, but a big warm welcome all the same to Richard Bailey.
What are you waiting for? Come on over to the dark side… Check out the list of my challenge prompts here:
