“I love you. I don’t like you.”
It took me years to realize that’s not a normal thing to say to a child though you always made a point of speaking to me like an adult. I don’t remember the last time you said it. But I remember hearing it for the first time.
Back when my eyes only reached your hands and the house was still being built and dad was always away. Too busy driving back and forth between vertical lines of vineyards and city streets in his Porsche that was a princess carriage those fistfull of days he picked me up from school. Too busy building us a…
