He was the son. And I was only the daughter in a world where that still makes a difference.
I was the wild one who wept and tore at my hair. I was the one who slept with boys I shouldn’t, just because I couldn’t have the boy I wanted.
He was the one who taught me to believe in God and whiskey and Cash. But he was the one who drank too much in a world where we all drank too much.
When I asked him to hold my hand he lit a marlboro instead.