The late night scratching of a key
Fumbling to find the lock
Front door bangs open
That familiar stranger stumbles in, eyes all aglitter with mischief or menace, seeking an accomplice or a lover, finding perhaps (in that twisted perception) a judge, an enemy.. a victim.
The little ones find a way, a skill for life, to hide, to pretend, to cajole, to befriend, to deflect and distract…
Absorbing it all, the rage, the shame, the displaced pain, the bruising inside and out, the chosen one receives the attention of a lover, with a shameful relishing of this more gentle violence.
In the morning, the snoring.. the sick call, the stink of cold vomit and piss, they clean the broken home…
the relief of seeing that sheepish look, the apologetic smile, the grateful breakfasting, the beloved parent returned at last…
All is once again, at least for now, right with the world.

Anon