The older I get, the more that I see- I now know how it feels. The angles of the earth, the guardians of my life- my parents are heroes, one of a kind. They are just like me. I used to see them as some kind of magic, doing everything with a smile—it’s tragic. Slowly, I’m learning there are times they suffer, just like me. I used to think they never went through the nonsense I do. That maybe they were angels who didn’t feel pain- bringing miracles, clicking surprises into place. But the older I get, the more I know- it must hurt them too. Fighting arguments, wearing broken smiles, they cried too, just like I did. Maybe they let me hurt them so I wouldn't be the one hurting. The anger I fear, the shouts I dread- they hate them too. Those kinds of angels hurt too. I never knew. I never did. The older I get, the more I find pieces of them in my silence, in my fears, in the way I love and leave. Maybe that’s what legacy really is- a presence we grow to call home.