Love Isn't Silly at All

The first time I heard the song, “Silly Love Songs” by Paul McCartney and Wings I was in my brother’s white 1965 Cadillac. My brother was driving, and my sister sat in the passenger seat as we made our way to the mall. Even though I was only six years old at the time, I remember the day as if it were yesterday. It was one of those summer days where the sky was as blue as the Pacific Ocean with not even a wisp of a white a cloud to be found. The sun was shining bright and warm into the open car windows. The breeze whooshed in from the side of the car where I sat in the back seat and stopped to tousle my hair before it whooshed out the window on the other side of the car. We were laughing and singing, and I was savoring this shining moment with my siblings. When we arrived at the mall my brother and sister dragged me around to a lot of stores that any six-year-old wouldn’t find particularly engaging, but I didn’t mind too much, because my payoff would come at the end of the trip when they bought me an ice cream cone. All was right in my little six-year-old world, and the ride home was as happy as it was on the way to the mall, if not happier because I had a chocolate ice cream cone.

My brother parked on the street in front of our house, and we all got out of the car. It was summer and the windows of our house were open, which allowed us to hear the sound we had all grown so accustomed to, the sound of a monumental fight. These were not your typical marital arguments where voices were slightly raised, and the tone was terse. Oh no, these fights had a habit of being big blow-ups with wild shouting and they sometimes became physical.

We walked into the house through the front door, and we could hear the accusations being leveled at my mother by my father. He had been drinking again, as evidenced by the empty 1.5-liter bottle of Carlo Rossi Paisano on the kitchen counter. Not that I was aware of the wine or the size of the bottle when I was six, but as I grew up, I would come to know what type of situation I was walking into by examining the level of the contents of the bottle on the counter. My brother and sister quickly hustled me upstairs to my room with our dog Brandy, and they tried to occupy me with some toys I had lying around. They told me to stay there and play for a while. They were going to go downstairs and see what was going on. They closed the door and left the dog and I behind while they made their way downstairs.

All I could really hear was earsplitting shouting. First my dad would yell something and then my mom would yell back. I had no idea what the words they were saying meant. I was scared. What was happening down there? Why were my parents screaming at each other? When were my brother and sister going to come back? I was alone, frightened, and confused and I started to cry. Brandy came over to me and licked my face, and then she sat by my side. We both just sat there, I was crying, and Brandy was barking.

Despite the indiscernible yelling I could hear through the uncarpeted floor, I felt comfort in having Brandy by my side, and my crying diminished to periodic sobs. Brandy stopped barking, and I heard my brother’s voice now. I still didn’t understand what anyone was saying, but the yelling had stopped, which slowed my pounding heart a little bit. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Brandy let out a low growl. I stood there paralyzed with fear. Was it my dad? Was he coming to yell at me? What did I do? Should I go hide? Where would I hide? What about Brandy? What would happen to her? As the footsteps came closer, I could hear my sister’s voice, and the sound of my mom crying. They went into the bedroom next door to mine, my parent’s room, and I heard my sister trying to comfort my mom.

Eventually the crying stopped, and my sister came to my door. I burst into tears, ran to her, and hugged her tightly. I didn’t know what else to do. This was too much for my little six-year-old mind to comprehend. I wanted to be back in my brother’s car listening to “Silly Love Songs”, eating my ice cream cone, and feeling the wind in my hair.