Fun in my childhood home?

My youngest son sent me a text about he and a friend playing with the vacuum at church yesterday, and having a little too much fun.
I responded about remembering doing things like that; lots of fun!

Then a secondary thought followed close on the heels of the first,

    "unless Dad was around."

I probably did have fun with Dad at some point,
   but I do not remember anything other than maybe 42.

I grew up in a home of fear, not laughter.

Could be my faulty memory (and jaded),
   but I do not remember random laughter in may parent's home.
That was always one of the refreshing things about the grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, ...
   Laughter!
   Joy! (even if shallow)

Life was lighter (in both senses), more colorful,
   more enjoyable, and somehow easier to bear, 
      than 
   in the sullen, fearful, dark, dull, dreary, heavy and wearisome place 
in which I lived and called home.

Small wonder I left home as I did, given my perceptions.
And it was not only my perception.
Scot (my youngest brother, 16 years my junior) when he was about 8 or 9,
told my wife that he did not like it when we left after a visit because,

   "When you leave, the sun goes away."

June 7, 2012