So I stopped. And shortly after the interview stopped. As I walked over to my dad’s car in the police station car park, I noticed that I was almost as tall as him. I had always thought of him as much bigger than me for some reason. As I sat in the passenger seat and watched him change gears, I noticed my hands weren’t that much smaller than his either. But I knew his hands could easily punch holes through doors. Mine couldn’t. He didn’t do that anymore, but his hands could if he wanted to. “That’s enough now” I agreed in my head. And I stuck to that agreement until well into adulthood.
