Dad The Conqueror

Dad Conquers Belgium

My dad looked embarrassed. It is a mask he wears often. Everyone in the room started laughing after the hotel employee told us that the box in the closet was a safe and not a microwave—the meat sandwich we brought back for our grandmother laid inside, secure, and uneaten. I was sure after we left that Belgium was not the same country that saw us arrive. Two disagreeable adults, two teenagers in the apex of apathy, and a grandmother in a wheelchair drawing some unfair comparison between that country and hers. And wait until I tell you about Paris.

Relvin does not lean left or right, democratic or conservative. He does not believe one group to be better than the other or one to be righteous while the other malevolent. Everything written by Relvin, unless otherwise specified, is what he believed to be the absolute truth at the time of writing it. New evidence or research can and will be taken into consideration, as it should.

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