A yellow jail issue scrub shirt, her hands, the deft fingers lithe with clean short nails, were cuffed in front- my mind recalled a christ-like figure.

Parenthood requires sacrifice. Lots of it. A more optimistic person might say it’s not sacrifice but compromise, and to that I say they don’t know what they’re talking about. Over the last several years, my wife and I have been parents to a wonderful little human named Harrison. He’s intelligent, strong, funny, helpful, and kind. Most of the time anyway. He’s also a three-year-old toddler so he is also erratic, neurotic, sullen, mercurial, and violent. Why, just yesterday, he slapped me across the face after telling him I loved him. In a very tiny nutshell, that right there is parenthood. You give love, you get smacked in the face.

Unity at what cost?

The indignity of going along to get along?

Freedom is on the top of my wish list.
But different elements come to mind.
Freedom from what? Freedom to do what?

I'd rather be truthful than cheerful.
I'd rather have a monkey on my back than be one

I like to drive. I like the freedom that hopping in the car and just heading out somewhere allows. My parents are currently on a random road trip through the western United States and the trip is classic in that they have no clue where they’re headed until the date before. Driving for hours to land at a hastily booked motel and seeing America. I love that.