I believe in the strength of a parent’s love. Throughout my life my parents have shown a dedication to me and my siblings that couldn’t be named anything less than “devout”. My siblings and I have done nothing but torment them for years, although it was mostly the others. I am the baby, thus, the favorite. They drove me to my activities, and sat through god-awful band rehearsals. When I told them that I was going to change my major again, what did I get? Well, besides a loud sigh as if air were escaping a balloon behind them; I got a smile, and their full support. This patience has allowed me to notice that a parent’s love can even be seen in every facet and walk of life.
While staying with my host-family in Berlin, I experienced the misfortune of sharing a home with six kittens, their mother, and what I assume was the cuckolded husband of the mother. The kittens had the tendency to run downstairs, and urinate on any and every bed they could find; they particularly enjoyed pillows. Every night at about two o’clock in the morning, I would hear the horrendous wailing of a kitten, which was comparable to Ashley Simpson on a bad day. The cry from the bowels of hell was accompanied by a “swiiiiiiisssssssshhhhhh THUD” sound every fifteen to twenty seconds. These sounds would continue for a painfully slow one to two hours. By the third night of this sound, I had had enough. I rushed out of my room to see the mother “Lily”, dragging each kitten up the stairs by the scruff of the neck, each step giving a unique percussive “thud” as her weak, little body took her babies to their rightful, urine free bed. She never responded to my screams of “What the *$%@ are you doing?!”, but I am fairly certain that is because she is German cat, and did not have adequate practice with English.
All parents, even cats, the eccentric old people of the animal world, seem to brave the whining, and abuse for the best interest of their own children. Perhaps I have had a different experience than others, but not a day goes by when I don’t feel supported or loved. They have guided me every step of the way towards my goals. They’ve held me when they were the ones with cancer, or in intensive care, or when memories of a lost child were rekindled. Their tears were never about themselves, but for me, my brother, and my sisters. That is why I believe in the strength of a parent’s love; I am truly appreciative for everything they have done, even if it involves slamming my head against a couple of stairs on the way.
If you enjoyed this essay, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to This I Believe, Inc.