folio

“You have no idea what it’s like to be different,” rages our eldest. “It’s so embarrassing being the odd one out.”

Oh yes I do, I reply.

But they’re talking about not having the latest smartphone here, not some kind of physical difference.

I know daily humiliation intimately. But they’re still too immature and lacking in empathy to be told about those experiences yet.

They did once pick up on it, coming across photos of me in Tanzania aged nineteen. “You were so thin,” they observed, “What was wrong with you?”

Fortunately, they seem to have forgotten those photos. I haven’t, though. I’m just glad they’re few and far between, for I detest the face I see.

Of course, I cannot speak of any of this at this juncture, so instead I mutter something about not having a Nintendo Game Boy when nearly everyone else did.

“But that wasn’t at school,” they protest. “You know nothing!”