50 years ago, my parents married at the age of 18 and 20. As the story goes, they had to travel from their home state of Florida to Georgia to elope because my maternal grandmother would not consent.
When they got there on March 17, the judge would not marry them because it was closing time and my mother was not “in a family way.” On March 18, 1963 my parents were married in a courthouse in Georgia and that is how it began.
4 years later, my sister was born and I followed 4 years after that. I call myself a love child (and my sister too) because I have never seen two people more in love than my parents. They were less a pair and more a unit – as in 1 unit.
We didn’t stand a chance. When we
each tried to play our parents against each other, they foiled our evil plans with their good communication. When we smart-mouthed or challenged our mother, we “waited until our father got home.” Our parents were always a united front when we children misbehaved.
I call myself a love child not just because of the love my parents had for each other but because of the love for us and discipline with each other they had to employ – consistently, repeatedly and reliably.
In a season of thankfulness, I have to include my thanks to my parents for being such an example of love and solidarity.