Just as day began to break, my mother headed off to work before I had even fallen asleep. Dad gave her a kiss I could hear upstairs.
“I love you. Have a nice day.”
“I love you more. Have a better one.”
I’d heard the exchange a million times in my twenty-some years. It made me make a promise to myself right then and there that I would play the media game as best I could if I did well in Rio, to earn even bigger bank and give my parents a vacation, at least, and a whole new life if possible, despite Dad’s stubbornness. I wasn’t a little kid anymore and could raise my voice too. I could be just as strong-willed.
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