Keeping the Peace
So my parents weren’t much home when we were growing up, both worked long hours and had to travel a lot as well. So mostly it was just me, my brother, and the designated au pair we had employed at the given time.
My brother and I were terrible siblings back then, I think we were too alike in the worst ways as kids—it would lead to fights.
Every once in a while, it would maybe go a step too far, like him giving me a concussion or the like. But as I always remembered it, we’d usually just move on without it ever becoming a “big deal”.
Our family is one where “keeping the peace” is alpha and omega. But when I turned 18 or 19, my mom gave me this long handwritten birthday card apologizing that “that ever happened”.
It talked about how crushed our au pair was at the time, how heartbroken she herself had been. But here’s the thing. To this day, I have ZERO idea what “that” was, and I don’t want to know.
I’m scared it will make me look at my family different or that happy childhood memories could be tarnished. I’m pretty sure it’s something about my brother and me.
I know it’s not what I’ve personally always defined as “the real violent episode,” because we were in our teens then and had no au pair—but it’s weird knowing you have memories that you don’t have access to. Story credit: Reddit / kindofofftrack