An Argument

An argument. Slow to develop as if coaxed into being by a master such as Beethoven. There are many pauses here. Every word is cutting. Each point is grasped at as a child reaching at stars, standing on the shoulders of giants. The tempestuous beings kick at the giant. The mythological fables escape their consciousness and now a feeble couple gripe under breath of what the other has done at a table in a dining room of a modern American home. The couple are the parents of two little ones. To be clear, the little ones have been growing, maturing for some years. Their world is materializing from their own passions and the little ones embrace every chance to experience all there is. This is the real matter of the argument, how these parents cope and react to the growth of these beings they have cared for for so many years.

The couple teeter between the hero and the dictator. They feel their immense power to make things just right. There is only stress and strife to tally though. The children and the parents collide and repel as particles of an experiment gone awry. How? Why do the choices cause this destruction? One parent remembers a time when the children reached out their tiny arms for a comforting embrace. That embrace is hard to give up; sometimes becoming a chokehold.

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