Who Knows What Normal Is?

"Did you have a normal childhood?" they ask.

You mean was my mother killed in a terrible car crash when I was just 6 so I don't really remember her? 

...No.

You mean did my father abuse me? 

...No.

You mean did I grow up in a country ravaged by war?

 ...No.

You mean did we have to scrabble around for our food and water? 

...No.

You mean did a pseudo religious sect take over our village, kill all the men and rape all the women? 

...No.

You mean did I spend most of my childhood dressed in rags, bitterly cold, hungry and alone? 

...No.

You mean did I see my father be shot in the head by a representative of some 'tin-pot' regime?

...No.

You mean did I grow up not having a family, 

in an institution or on the streets? 

...No.

You mean, 

was I loved? 

...Yes.

Was I warm; fed and happy? ...Yes.

Did I know my place in the world,

my place in the structure of a loving family,

did I have relatives to visit,

wonderful trips away,

holidays? 

...Yes I did.

Did I have a normal childhood?

...who knows what normal is?