It comes in many forms, subtle ones like a good latte, and more obsessive ones like the passion my father had for my mother.
He loved her alot, I know it because I heard it spoken much when I was little. He wrote it alot as well in the letter he sent her every time she ran away from him and the beatings. And allways with those letter I knew she would go back to him, Her passion for him burning just as strongly.We never stayed in One place for more than two years when I was with my parents. After leaving the Army my father could never stay in one job for long, and that often led to the biggest fights. Often they started over him going to a bar, of Not coming home all night. We used to wait up for him to come in. Piss drunk and stumbling up the stoop we'd stand at the door reall quiett and hold the locks so even if he got the right key INTO the lock it never opened. I thought it was a game.
Sometimes He would bring home flowers, those lily ones that look like ears of corn. They were their wedding flowers, and I thought it was romantic. It truly was a bribe against the brusies and such that had sent her to sleep in my bed the nights before. Sometimes when it was really bad, we'd leave him. Only to go back after one of those letters.
I never noticed most of the bad things that happened to my mother over the years, But I wish I had. Maybe it would have helped me understand her better. I wish I knew the father who came before the one I remember, maybe it would help me understand why she kept going back to him. Passion can be good, or bad. Perhaps that's where it crosses the line to adddiction, or obsession.
My mother was an addict, and my father was obsessed. ANd I forgive them. But I should never forget. Life is a process like a pattern on a pair of needles. An error can be a mistake that ruins a work, or turned into an integral part of a new, great work. I Am trying, to keep it as integral, and not let my past botch my life. I have moments like now when I want to reflect, to try and learn from things I used to not understand. Or maybe just to talk it through and let it go. Sometimes I write these things and I delete them instead. Perhaps I should do that with this one too. but for now, I'll leave it up.