Hate

I've been thinking about hate a lot recently. When I was young my sisters and I used to scream our hatred of each other for everyone to hear when we got mad. Just the word hate would send mom careening down the hallway towards us like a bullet. She'd lean down, look into our faces and say, "we don't hate in this house, we don't say that word, you DO NOT hate. You may not like someone, but you never hate."

I don't think any of us girls got it back then. I "hated" everything, my sisters, boys, math, science, that bitch who betrayed me in theatre, red lights, and getting my picture taken.

The hate of a teenager is a massive and fluid thing. That's the type of hate that isn't hate at all. It's testing boundaries, trying to control your hormones and wondering just what the fuck happened to make you such a basket case.

As I get older mom's words make more and more sense. I've never really hated anyone or anything. Not in a lasting way. There's only one time in my life that I think I experienced hate as a real emotion and with a few years and a lot of growing it's disappeared.

Lasting hate, irrational hate, the hate that leads to violence I've never felt nor understood. I'm glad. I can't imagine carrying that around with me.

Mom's a wise woman.

We don't hate in this house.

You may not like someone, but you never hate.

After getting that lecture from Mom my sisters and I would look at each other, stick out our tongues and say, "I really, really dislike you."

We were so sweet.