The Day I Grew Up

While I was in law school I lived with a corporate attorney. One fine day I told him I wasn't going to be at the apartment when he got there because I was going to a meeting of the blankety blank neighborhood empowerment movement. He told me not to go. No ifs, no buts, don't go.

I went, left his dinner for the microwave, and headed off with one of my friends from law school. I got back around ten, tossed my bag and headed for the bathroom. He caught me on the way out and grabbed my arm walking me into the kitchen. I got challenged, no faced with my transgression, had I not been told not to go? Bent over the kitchen table I got three hard swats with the kitchen spoon and an order, do not disobey.

My anger was worse than ever but my mouth clammed shut looking into his eyes. My father's eyes were staring back at me, my mother's words rung in my ears, a man sets order in the home. There was no mistake that day, he was the man, the man of the house. That day, it rings in my ears, that's the day I grew up.

I'm 40 now, a lawyer by trade, a wife and mother by vocation. Our table discusses, the man of the house decides, the kitchen spoon is on the counter, the mood is respect and obedience. With two teen age daughters my mother is channeled, obey your father. Because he is your father, that's why. And in the quiet moment between mother and daughter they find it hard to believe that Daddy spanked Mommy. He did.