Читать книгу The Forging and the Death of a Reflection - Dr. Peter J. Swartz Swartz - Страница 5

My father seemed to have never found his own arms.

He seemed to be looking for them quite a bit though, usually in a tense or angry kind of way.

He certainly never found a way to get them around my small shoulders.

Tortured without the facility or the practice in using his arms, my father was exquisitely able to “keep his own ducks in a row.”

And he “never mixed his peas and carrots,” his two all-time favorite things to say and to do.

Reenacting those two beliefs, his ultimate arenas of expertise, were essentially and sadly for me, his only arenas.