My father couldn’t have made his point any clearer if he’d spoken in all caps.
“You have to be the best in the world at something.”
We were in the dining room, choking down one of Mum’s meatless Friday meals. Breakfast,lunch, and dinner—all were eaten in the dining room.
The old beige walls were wildly streaked with crayon halfway up.Each time they were painted over, someone else would reach the age of creative abandon and the marks would appear again. In contrast, a grim crucifix glared down upon each meal.