“Unraveling the Secrets of ‘Traditions of a Mutt’: What Your Dog’s Mixed Breed Can Teach You About Love and Loyalty”
I’ve grown up with stories of family suicide and in-your-face alcoholism. Elder and Auntie were not words in my vocabulary. As a child, these hands did find consistencies with history in the wiping of late-night tears. The kind of tears that pour out silently while tucked into bed.
One late night when I was young, I was kept awake by the muffled sounds of raised voices, heard through the walls. The stereo got louder and louder as the night carried on. The sounds began to laugh less and yell more. There was a “THUD” into what I assumed was the kitchen table and the jingle of knocked over beer cans followed. One of the visiting women yelled something and then the music quietened, and she was clearly crying. Deep muffed male voices talked over each other until they all stepped outside. Ah, finally, is the party over? My heart rate slowed with the quiet and I fell asleep, only to soon awake. My face was puffy and tear stained. As a child, you think it’s only you who falls asleep to the sound of inebriation, but this has been happening for generations. It might just be tradition.
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