by Joshua Ihezie

Created on: March 04, 2009

It was a rainy night. I was the oldest child in the house and ten years old. The whole family was gathered around the dinner table eating and telling jokes. My mom brought up her in-laws and how much they maltreated her when she started dating my dad. My dad started teasing my mom about her good memory. He kept ranting on and on about how my mom cannot forget the past and focus on the future. My mom got very angry about this and started crying. She started yelling at my dad as he kept talking. "If you do not shut up I will hurt you!", she said. Suddenly she went into the kitchen and took out the kitchen knife from the kitchen drawer. At this point all my siblings were scared and kept telling him to shut up, but he would not. When my mom showed up with the kitchen knife he went into the living room and sat down. He started watching the sports channel as my mom kept ranting in front of the kitchen door. My mom always wielded a kitchen knife around my dad when she was angry

at him but never used it, so we thought she was going to do the same during this altercation.

As my mom kept ranting, my dad paid her no mind. This irked my mom so much she walked past us towards the living room to confront my dad. My mom went straight for my dad and stabbed him in his shoulder as he sat watching the TV. When my dad screamed out loud I knew something bad had happened. I left the dining room and ran to the living room to find my dad clutching my mom's left hand while she lurched at him with the blood-stained knife.

It was a scary sight. My mom was crying hysterically while my dad held on to her hand, he would never retaliate. He was such a gentleman and I wondered why my mom was being violent. When I grabbed my mom from behind and she noticed it was me, she stopped lurching at him with the knife and sat down on our couch; while holding her forehead with her right hand. My dad sat down beside her and consoled her, and I was amazed that he would do such a thing after such a violent tantrum.

He looked up at me and told me to call the ambulance, while he calmed her down. I dialed 911 and requested an ambulance to our residence, and while we waited for the ambulance my dad took my mom upstairs to their bedroom. When the ambulance came they took him to the hospital and he came back a few hours later with a bandage and stitches on his shoulder. He had probably lied about the cause of his injury because the cops never bothered us about the incident.

My mother later apologized to us in front of my dad, but never said anything to him. Maybe she apologized to him in private, maybe not. But the respect I gained for my dad after that incident was profound. It never happened again even though they argued numerous times after that. My mom never touched a kitchen knife again during an argument and I am happy about that. Growing up and thinking back on the incident, I realized it was love that kept my dad from retaliating or pressing charges after that incident. I would never put my hands on a woman, even if she tried to hurt me. A lover is never a fighter.

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