I remember it being a vary hot summer, and one late night after my brother came home from a partyI could here him come up the stairs laughing with his friend Ian, They both walked pass my door and in to my brothers room. Sense I was in the next room, I could hear everything through the walls. At first I heard my brother tell Ian to be quiet, as to not wake me or my dad up, but thinking of how loud they were when they first arrived I wondered if my dad had already been awake.
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There was a smell to the room, of stale perfume, my father's cigarettes and of bodies. Even so, I was drawn to this room, as if to danger, a wish to pit my puny strength against my father's, whose every command was law. My mother made up my parent's bed each day by dragging a thick maroon cover over the top to hide the rumpled sheets and blankets.
A note: I am aware this story exists in this site however the person who posted it wasn't me. I've reported it. However thick my parents thought the walls in our house were, they weren't thick enough.
S ex ed at home comes naturally when you have a boy and a girl embracing the nudity-is-awesome childhood development phase. Letting little siblings bounce around the house unrestrained is kind of like roadside geology—it's just there, exposed. I have not had The Talk with my kids.