Editing Character Vignettes (section)

=='''He Had A Hat'''==

This one is pretty much just me gobbing about my normal life, so if that sounds dull to you, you can get out now.
 
If you asked me how I viewed my life, or at least how I understood it, I'd probably respond with a little story like this:
 
Now, I don't know if this actually a story or a joke I once heard somewhere, but here goes. A woman and her son go to the beach on a sunny day. The boy is playing in the waves when a big wave sweeps him out to sea. His mother gets down and prays to God, saying, "Lord, please return my son to me." Lo and behold, another wave brings the boy back to the shore, safe and sound. The woman goes to her son, looks him over, looks up to heaven and says, "He had a hat!"
 
You might be wondering what I mean exactly by trying to relate this story to my out look on life. Well, like the woman in the story, I manage to find something to complain about despite being miraculously favored and compensated.
 
You're probably thinking right now that the story relates to the point only tangentially, sounds rather forced, and all and all is more an attempt to work in a cheap joke rather than a meaningful example to help you understand my position.
 
To that, I'll say that you're a rather perceptive lot. Where did the dumb audience go?
 
When you get right down to it, I don't have that much to complain about, and I have a lot to be thankful for, and yet I still manage to feel unsatisfied with the way things are. I know it makes me sound like a spoiled brat, but that's honestly how I feel. Am I supposed to lie about that sort of stuff? I endeavor to keep the complaining under wraps, and to not try to bother other people with it too much, but it still kind of bugs me.
 
I'm about as fortunate as the come, when you look at it. My parents are both very successful. I don't lack for much, and have quite a number of natural gifts that I did jack all to deserve. There's very little I can honestly find wanting.
 
And yet there is a quiet about the dinner table that I have never quite gotten used to.
 
My parents, you see, are very rational and logical people. Dad is an industrialist, mother is in politics. They are both very good at what they do. Good at talking to people. Good at working things out. Good at compromise. 
 
You see, my parents were once very much in love. I believe that completely. Heck, I know it. I can remember a time, when I was young, when there was genuine warmth between them.
 
But something changed. I don't know what; but it happened. Both of them just kind of drifted away from one another. They just got caught up in other things. They had to pick between the demands of life and each other, and they did something I don't think will ever quite sit right with me. They compromised. They compromised until they'd given everything away, until they had no right to claim each other.
 
Now, maybe I'm being irrational about this. Maybe the fact that they could compromise, that they could and would and did sacrifice their connection, their relationship, for other things, maybe that proves that their bond wasn't as strong or true as I like to pretend.
 
It wasn't violent. There was no anger, no sense of betrayal, no pain, really. I guess that might be unusual in of itself, but that's how it went down. The two managed to work something out. They're still married, technically. They stayed together "for the kids," I believe. 
 
Sometimes, I wish they had gotten mad. I wish they had thrown things and yelled and made a fuss. I wish they'd acted like it mattered, like they cared.

Yeah, I know. Compared to some people, that's nothing. I know that in the big scheme of things, it's nothing.

But it still bugs me.