Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Forced Family

We sit. In silence. We don't talk, it's just our presence.
Occasionally the "father" will speak; light conversation though. But only to the son, only father to son. Never to the "daughter", never "father" to "daughter."
The minutes pass, still the absence of vocalization. But the sound of the "father's" breath, the son sipping his water, the "daughter" quietly typing.
Anyone else would find this peculiar, eerie even; it's normal for this . . . family. We sit, no lingual communication.
However, it used not to be this way. Yet now this sort of thing has become comfortable, in a way. No need to express feelings or thoughts. Not that we simply know what they are, we just choose not to acknowledge them. Those tricky emotions and "issues" in this . . . family are ignored almost; no one admits to that either though.
The silence continues. Only broken by the "daughter"; she utters not one word, it's not needed anyway, and leaves. The father and son remain though, still comfortable in the still quiet, more comfortable now actually.