It seems forever ago that my parents dropped the guillotine on my brothers and sister's perfect little existence but it wasn't really. At this point, it's only been just over 15 years. It's amazing to me now how long 15 years really isn't. And that was not an exaggeration about my father wearing only his tighty whiteys to deliver the horrid/happy news (depending on your stance at the age of 10) to three sets of confused and one set of knowing eyeballs, but that was dad for ya....
In what seemed like mere moments but was actually months following my parents separation, so much happened. Most of which I can not recall. Strange, isn't it? That the most pivotal point in my adolescent life, and I can't seem to remember anything that could possibly have been a factor in the shaping of me as a preteen, teenager, young adult, and eventually a grown woman. No, instead I chose to remember times like the months following the separation how one day, my mother comes home completely flipping her lid. She is pacing and yelling at NOTHING! Literally NOTHING! Then she is shaking her hands which causes me to suddenly notice the papers in her hand. I have absolutely not one damned clue what they are but seeing as how my parents had been spending a little more time together, I knew that this paper was about to blow that right out of the f-ing water. Turns out, I was right, again...
Some back history on the events that were about to transpire. In the spring of 1993, my parents and brothers were outside doing some yard work. Dad was mowing, mom was weeding the garden and the boys were playing with their mini Chicago bulls balls. My youngest brother, being the precocious little shit he was/is, he started to throw his ball farther and farther and in doing so was out of my parents lines of vision. Long story shorter, he ended up in the run area of our neighbors less than tame chow chow, Junior. This dog, I am still convinced, was a demon dog. It hated everyone! I suspected from early on that he loved to snack on other animals and....children. Turns out, that was a correct assumption. He got ahold of my brother, all two feet 30lbs of him and shook the life out of him. My mother, whom has ALWAYS had a certain sixth sense if you will when it comes to any family member noticed right then that he was missing. She yelled for my dad and all at once, they both looked over toward Junior's lair and saw two tiny little feet twitching. That was the last thing that my mother remembers besides having a boulder almost as big as her in her hands over her head and bringing it down on top of the dog to get him off of her baby. My brother nearly dies that day. My mother carried her youngest in her hands by his throat to stop him from bleeding to death. The rest happened in what seemed like a matter of seconds but was truly minutes upon hours. He is taken to the hospital and by the grace of God and four hundred and some stitches later, he is saved. The dog tore through his jugular vein and shredded his face and portions of his neck. Junior was put down one day later for allegedly frothing at the mouth while in animal control custody. Some two years later my parents get the results from the state universities lab that he was negative for rabies....way to be on top of things, huh?
But what truly led to my parents announcement was revealed to me the day that my mother storms in with these papers. During my brothers one (or two or three can't remember really) month stay in the hospital, the rest of us children were being watched over by a gracious new friend of our parents. This woman worked with my father at the department and was on all accounts, our parents knight in shining armour. She would pick us up after school if our parents weren't going to be home and we'd stay at her house all day playing or doing homework. We became best friends with her children and looked up to her husband. But this woman was not a true knight in shining armour. Turns out she was very very tarnished and my mother just couldn't see it because of her baby lying in a hospital bed. What woman/ mother wouldn't have been blind to a Trojan horse staring her right in the face?
The day mom came home with those paper was a day that would live in infamy, if I may be so bold as to quote F.D.R. She storms in, and I immediately run outside. I don't know why, but it seemed like a smart thing to do. Now that I think about it, either way, I was not going to like the rest of my day very much. She huffs back outside and sees me playing in the yard. I still remember with certain clarity exactly what I was wearing that day. Cut off jean shorts, a blue t-shirt and my cowboy boots. When she comes down the stairs, she orders me to get into the car. I didn't ask and really didn't care where the hell we were going. That was the first time in my life I had ever seen desperation in another human beings eyes. Read it in every crease on their face. That torture was so loud, that I had to turn away from her. It was like staring into a bottomless chasm and hearing a painful wail forever echoing growing louder with each reverberation. I had just witnessed the death of my mothers heart and soul and couldn't do one damned thing about it.
We drive and eventually I begin to realize where we were going, HER house. There is just enough time for me to read the papers, that turn out to be letters, that my mother shoves into my hands and tells me to read it and see what kind of man my father really is. I CAN NOT recall one single solitary word from that letter, but I do know that at that time when I read it, I completely understood what it said with out having to ask. The gist of it is that it is from my father to this woman who was supposed to be my mothers friend and it is slightly explicit and one hundred percent inappropriate! I felt like a great injustice had been done! She wasn't my mommy, why was he talking to her like this!? I didn't know what an affair was! I had been brought up in the church and the church teaches you that it's illegal in God's eyes but not what it is! So since we were still church goers then, I knew with out a doubt that my daddy was a sinner. A sinner! MY daddy! This couldn't be happening! I step back and look at this now and laugh! I was getting all indignant over this tremendous feeling of betrayal, but not towards my mother, but me! And God! Because all I could picture was my fathers eternal damnation! I was so pissed off! It was one thing to move out and divorce but it was completely something else to be sent to hell! We were all supposed to be in heaven together! I had it all planned out right down to which stuffed animals I was going to convince God to allow me to take. He had just totally screwed up my after life!
Stupid? Not really when you consider I was 10 and brought up under fire and brimstone teachings. It didn't take me long, though, to understand, in part, my mothers anguish. I knew that she was hurting, I still couldn't look her in the eye. But I didn't really grasp exactly why. I hadn't yet come to know the gooey feeling a boy gives you in the pit of your stomach. I did not know a love that was so deep and all encompassing that it was exactly like being drawn and quartered when it was taken, ended, over. But, as we pulled up to HER house, I began to. We pulled into her HER yard and I sort of have this feeling that my mom hadn't completely stopped the car when she chose to jump from it heading straight for HER door. I do know that for the next hour, it seemed, that my mother screamed and yelled and called names and said cuss words that I had never had the pleasure of hearing before. And all of this was done through a door that this coward was diligently hiding behind and distracting my mother so that my even bigger coward father could sneak out to HER car. My mom knew, KNEW, with that special woman's intuition that he was in there. Or because one of her best friends had followed him there, which ever. Eventually we regrouped into the car and pulled across the street into HER neighbors drive way and waited.....and waited.....and waited. Eventually we see her storm out to her car and just pull off. Well, since my father never came out to talk or whatever it is you would do in that situation, she knew he was in the car with HER. And that was that. We went home, and there was no more trying to work it out.
In the days to follow, my father made a few attempts to come over, and succeeded one day only because my mother hadn't gotten out of bed. And according to him, that was the day that he stopped her from swallowing a whole bunch of pills. I still, with out a single doubt in my mind, do not believe him on that. My mother may have been despondent, she may have been broken hearted and with out spirit, but she has never been suicidal. Our faith has taught us that that is a mortal sin, something you can't repent for if successful. She may have lost her way in some things but her faith was not one of them. On more than one occasion however, she has told us children that we saved her life. Though that does not necessarily mean that she would have had we not been around. It just means that she kept going, she trudged on through the darkest hour of her life, for us. We will never be able to repay her as long as we live for the sacrifices she has made. And she has made plenty.
Following this particularly dark time, a few events occurred almost simultaneously. My mother took on three, yes I said THREE jobs that kept her away for most days. If my father didn't have us, we were in the care of our neighbor across the way. And if for whatever reason, she was unavailable and dad was working, I got to babysit! Oh I lived for those nights! It wasn't really hard watching my siblings, we all just played and then when I knew it to be bed time, I would get them ready and put them to bed. Simple. And I had bragging rights to being the cheapest babysitter ever....all I asked was a Dr. Pepper and some Ring Pops! It soon became apparent, however, that this arrangement was not going to be lasting. Mom was working more hours but some how not bringing in enough money for food and fire wood and it was almost winter. Which almost inevitably spelled disaster for our little house. We had a pump system that was outside in a sort of cellar if you will. And every winter, with out fail, the damned pipes would freeze. And that is exactly what they did the day that we went to go live with my father. That day was the day that I had my heart broken for the first time.
We get off the bus that day and dad is at the house throwing everything that all four of us children own into two large lawn bags. Strange to see your whole existence brought down to scale like that. When questioned as to where mom is he says that she isn't there, simple as that. When questioned why we are going to go live with him now, he tells us because our mother doesn't want us any more, cue earth shattering. Yes ladies and gentlemen, my father told us that our mother no longer loved or wanted us. He was that hard up to get us on his side he would put such poisons into HIS own children's heads. I was a wreck the rest of the day. I BEGGED him to call my mom so I could ask her what happened, why didn't she want us! He refused. Apparently, he also thought I was a dense child, because he left us alone that night to go "somewhere" and I proceeded to call my mother at my grandparents. I left her a message telling her that I loved her with all of my heart and begged her to not forget me. And that I would try to fix whatever it was that made her not want us anymore. Needless to say, when my father came back with "somewhere" he was greeted with a less then welcoming confrontation with my mother. He attempted to deny saying that, but she knew I would never have made up something like that. I wasn't a child who lied often, if at all. I liked to bypass the belting cycle. Once they sat us all down and explained exactly why it was that we had come to live with dad, I felt more at ease but still so very heart sick. I didn't want to be there with out my mom. I didn't want to be anywhere with out her. But we ended up staying there with dad for two months any way. He drove us back and forth to school EVERY day. I hated it. When my class had a two week endeavor at our local arboretum, I was beyond thrilled to have my mother as one of the parents who volunteered to teach a section! Consequently, I was sent home early that day because once she left I became inconsolable. My dad tells me that day while driving home that he'll make a nice dinner to help make me feel better. I was slightly cheered up. I had been doing most of the meal preparations and was a bit over it. So i assumed he'd whip up something delectable, something restaurant worthy! But it was not to be....for on his stove that night, he cracked open a can of corned beef hash and green beans....the exact same meal we had had for almost two weeks straight. I cried into the hash while I stirred it, having ended up finishing dinner for dad so he could take a phone call or watch something on t.v. I can't really remember. At the time, I was still adjusting to the knowledge that my parents were completely capable of letting me down.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Underwear......
Have you ever had those fleeting moments of absolute clarity just before you're about to do something that has a 50/50 shot of being a very bad decision, like putting the smelly left overs in your mouth just to kind of confirm the rottenness? The moment immediately proceeding one of the most important conversations I would have with my mother was just like that, almost right down to the green fuzz on top.
My mother sat there for a brief moment with my hair in her hands being braided, and for some inexplicable reason, I felt that that was the perfect time to ask her a question. So I did. I asked her what had happened with her and daddy. I had this knot in my stomach that just refused to be ignored. And sadly, the feeling that that knot created was a mixture between, dread and oddly, excitement. I know! Excitement!? Am I sure? Yes, I am very sure of that. Soon it will be explained and you may pity as you see fit.
Mom kind of took a moment to compose herself before answering me. All she seemed able to come up with was, "do you know what divorce is?". I had a vague idea of what it was, but no, I didn't really know what it was exactly. Just that it wasn't good. What I knew of it was from my uncle, whom had been divorced, and my cousins. But there was something about this conversation that I felt the need to pretend to be an adult. It really was odd how I felt the need to rise to my mother's level of maturity, or attempt to, but I did. I wanted to be able to have a conversation with her on her level and she seemed to need to be able to relate to me. That was probably not a good idea now that I think about it.
"Is it what happened to Marcus and Megan?". That's it. That was what my false adult brain came up with! So much for relating on a pseudo-adult level! Ha! Anyway, as my mother took a moment to absorb what it was that I had said, 'cause no matter how ridiculous it sounds now, it was a pretty accurate comparison. She confirmed that it was indeed and wanted to know how I felt about that realization. Now here comes the sad part, I felt relief! I know! Horrible! But I knew that in divorces, the parents stopped living together and that that would likely mean my father would be gone. It sounds as horrible as all get out, but yes, I was relieved that my dad would be going! Now please understand, I viewed my father as a sort of tyrant with his impeccable narcissistic attitude. For as long as I can remember my father has been a police officer so, in short, my father had one hell of a god complex. It is very true what they say of cops, they do think that their shit doesn't stink and that the world and all who inhabit it, revolve around them and their fellow officers. I can count on both of my hands the number of times my father would use his badge to get out of a speeding ticket or any other sort of traffic violation. He also favored using a very thick leather belt as his means of not sparing the rod for fear of spoiling the children. Now, don't go all fanatic on me with the "that's child abuse" bull shit, I simply make this statement cause he could have chosen a smaller one! This honestly was pretty much my only real reason for being happy, if you will, that he was going...my daddy was mean! How childish it sounds now, but how justified it sounded then....strange.
Of course I didn't tell my mother this, I didn't want her to think I hated my father. I didn't. At least not at this point in my life. That particular warm and fuzzy feeling wasn't to come for a few more years....
After we sat up until 2 a.m. talking about these things that entail a divorce, I asked her if we could please go to bed. She acquiesced but not before telling me that her and daddy would be talking these things over with all of us children in the morning. At that moment I felt dread....what if dad could tell what I was thinking!? I was terrified! I couldn't sleep at all that night and in the morning, I sat pretty much in the same spot on the couch until my parents emerged from their room. They shuffled down the hallway like death row inmates being led to the execution chamber. I honestly had that comparison in my mind at that moment. At the age of 10! I have never been accused of being a normal child.
At that precise moment, my siblings lives were getting brought back in line with mine in the vortex of anger and hurt that was still waiting to be realized. And the person who was delivering that awful taste of reality was wearing only tighty whitey's.
My mother sat there for a brief moment with my hair in her hands being braided, and for some inexplicable reason, I felt that that was the perfect time to ask her a question. So I did. I asked her what had happened with her and daddy. I had this knot in my stomach that just refused to be ignored. And sadly, the feeling that that knot created was a mixture between, dread and oddly, excitement. I know! Excitement!? Am I sure? Yes, I am very sure of that. Soon it will be explained and you may pity as you see fit.
Mom kind of took a moment to compose herself before answering me. All she seemed able to come up with was, "do you know what divorce is?". I had a vague idea of what it was, but no, I didn't really know what it was exactly. Just that it wasn't good. What I knew of it was from my uncle, whom had been divorced, and my cousins. But there was something about this conversation that I felt the need to pretend to be an adult. It really was odd how I felt the need to rise to my mother's level of maturity, or attempt to, but I did. I wanted to be able to have a conversation with her on her level and she seemed to need to be able to relate to me. That was probably not a good idea now that I think about it.
"Is it what happened to Marcus and Megan?". That's it. That was what my false adult brain came up with! So much for relating on a pseudo-adult level! Ha! Anyway, as my mother took a moment to absorb what it was that I had said, 'cause no matter how ridiculous it sounds now, it was a pretty accurate comparison. She confirmed that it was indeed and wanted to know how I felt about that realization. Now here comes the sad part, I felt relief! I know! Horrible! But I knew that in divorces, the parents stopped living together and that that would likely mean my father would be gone. It sounds as horrible as all get out, but yes, I was relieved that my dad would be going! Now please understand, I viewed my father as a sort of tyrant with his impeccable narcissistic attitude. For as long as I can remember my father has been a police officer so, in short, my father had one hell of a god complex. It is very true what they say of cops, they do think that their shit doesn't stink and that the world and all who inhabit it, revolve around them and their fellow officers. I can count on both of my hands the number of times my father would use his badge to get out of a speeding ticket or any other sort of traffic violation. He also favored using a very thick leather belt as his means of not sparing the rod for fear of spoiling the children. Now, don't go all fanatic on me with the "that's child abuse" bull shit, I simply make this statement cause he could have chosen a smaller one! This honestly was pretty much my only real reason for being happy, if you will, that he was going...my daddy was mean! How childish it sounds now, but how justified it sounded then....strange.
Of course I didn't tell my mother this, I didn't want her to think I hated my father. I didn't. At least not at this point in my life. That particular warm and fuzzy feeling wasn't to come for a few more years....
After we sat up until 2 a.m. talking about these things that entail a divorce, I asked her if we could please go to bed. She acquiesced but not before telling me that her and daddy would be talking these things over with all of us children in the morning. At that moment I felt dread....what if dad could tell what I was thinking!? I was terrified! I couldn't sleep at all that night and in the morning, I sat pretty much in the same spot on the couch until my parents emerged from their room. They shuffled down the hallway like death row inmates being led to the execution chamber. I honestly had that comparison in my mind at that moment. At the age of 10! I have never been accused of being a normal child.
At that precise moment, my siblings lives were getting brought back in line with mine in the vortex of anger and hurt that was still waiting to be realized. And the person who was delivering that awful taste of reality was wearing only tighty whitey's.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Exodus...
Surprises to a child, as a general rule, are supposed to be fun and awesome. Keep that in mind. My parents apparently had neglected to google this fact, and it has cost us children dearly.
While driving with my uncle and his wife, I began to daydream where they could possibly be taking me for my birthday. I gathered that I was a pretty special child to get such preferential treatment!
Now, quickly, lets reflect. Remember when I said that I was going to be an only child, theoretically speaking? That was because my uncle and his wife had two children, but one was only like 2 or 3 and the other was newborn. Said children were dropped off at respective care takers before we embarked one what I could only assume was going to be the BEST birthday ever! But then while driving, I began to ponder something...why, if this was to be a kiddie surprise, were we dropping off the other children? And then, something settled in the pit of my stomach that I refused to acknowledge the second that I realized it was the truth. My uncle, nor his wife, had spoken two words that I can recall and I realized then that my best birthday ever had come to an abrupt end some two hours previous. I was going home.
Now, I realize that that may sound like I didn't want to go home. That I didn't miss my family. These assumptions would be wrong. I missed my family greatly, and in fact had cried myself to sleep a few times during that month. But even a ten year old knows when they're going into a bad situation. I was one of them.
We drove for what seemed like years. Through the mountains we traveled in the middle of the night. There is nothing spookier than a full moonlit night in dark mountains. *shudders* I finally decided to ask where we were going. My uncle just replied with a mixture of anger and sadness, "home". I got a little excited 'cause he told me that we were meeting my mom somewhere in WV. The only really clear thing that i remember that night before getting to my mother was that I so wanted to ask my uncle what the phone call had been about. But I think a small part of me knew that it was much more than I could wrap my head around. Little did I know that I was going to be all but forced to wrap my head around it in the days, months, and years to come. Childhood innocence is tragically taken for granted until one realizes too late that it's been torn away and prematurely replaced with adulthood.
Around three in the morning we reached a McDonald's somewhere in the foot hills of WV. We pulled into the gas station that it was attached to and my uncle told me to rest, he wasn't sure how long until my mother would be arriving. Yeah, right! I didn't and eventually saw a familiar bronze colored Chevy S-10 pull into the gas station. My mother had arrived!
I could barely contain my excitement! I had all but forgotten my foreboding sense of dread that I had been fostering since the evening before. When she pulled up to us and got out of the car I couldn't get out of the car fast enough to run into her arms. She was and still is so beautiful to me and I never wanted to leave her again. Then just when my reunion didn't seem like it could get any better out of the car came flying a giant cotton ball! Butchy! My beloved terrier mix and his cute as all get out curly Q of a tail! He was by far the happiest person to see me! Sure, my mom missed me like any good mother would, but a loyal animal loves you like none other! I would turn to that dog more often than not pretty soon.
We said our goodbye's to my uncle and his wife and my mom, with inexplicable tears in her eyes thanked them over and over again. I didn't know why, I guess I assumed that she was just that happy to see me. She got back in the car, and drove home. We talked the whole 4 hr drive back. I tried to nap in her lap but I was keyed up and rarin' to go! So when we eventually did roll into our drive way at 7:30 in the morning on July 1st, 1993, I had forgotten the circumstances that had brought me back so early. My brother's and sister came tearing out of the house in the morning glow, all still in their pajama's, with their bed heads still evident. It was a joyous reunion. One that I have turned to in times of great frustration with one or the other since.
My father was up and kindly ordered my mother and I to go to bed since it had been a long night. So, we did. And we slept for 12 or 13 hrs. Something like that. All I remember is that when we got up, everyone had been put to bed and dad was either in bed too, or he had gone to work. I can't really recall if mom and I woke at the same time or if she woke me up. Any how, mom asked me if I was hungry, and of course, I was. So while our dinner cooked, we sat in the blanching glow of the over the counter fluorescent light. She began to play with my hair. I loved it when she did that. It was like a bonding exercise, it soothed me and now, looking back, I realize that was mom's master plan. She was gearing up to drop THE atomic bomb of all childhood's on my still groggy head
While driving with my uncle and his wife, I began to daydream where they could possibly be taking me for my birthday. I gathered that I was a pretty special child to get such preferential treatment!
Now, quickly, lets reflect. Remember when I said that I was going to be an only child, theoretically speaking? That was because my uncle and his wife had two children, but one was only like 2 or 3 and the other was newborn. Said children were dropped off at respective care takers before we embarked one what I could only assume was going to be the BEST birthday ever! But then while driving, I began to ponder something...why, if this was to be a kiddie surprise, were we dropping off the other children? And then, something settled in the pit of my stomach that I refused to acknowledge the second that I realized it was the truth. My uncle, nor his wife, had spoken two words that I can recall and I realized then that my best birthday ever had come to an abrupt end some two hours previous. I was going home.
Now, I realize that that may sound like I didn't want to go home. That I didn't miss my family. These assumptions would be wrong. I missed my family greatly, and in fact had cried myself to sleep a few times during that month. But even a ten year old knows when they're going into a bad situation. I was one of them.
We drove for what seemed like years. Through the mountains we traveled in the middle of the night. There is nothing spookier than a full moonlit night in dark mountains. *shudders* I finally decided to ask where we were going. My uncle just replied with a mixture of anger and sadness, "home". I got a little excited 'cause he told me that we were meeting my mom somewhere in WV. The only really clear thing that i remember that night before getting to my mother was that I so wanted to ask my uncle what the phone call had been about. But I think a small part of me knew that it was much more than I could wrap my head around. Little did I know that I was going to be all but forced to wrap my head around it in the days, months, and years to come. Childhood innocence is tragically taken for granted until one realizes too late that it's been torn away and prematurely replaced with adulthood.
Around three in the morning we reached a McDonald's somewhere in the foot hills of WV. We pulled into the gas station that it was attached to and my uncle told me to rest, he wasn't sure how long until my mother would be arriving. Yeah, right! I didn't and eventually saw a familiar bronze colored Chevy S-10 pull into the gas station. My mother had arrived!
I could barely contain my excitement! I had all but forgotten my foreboding sense of dread that I had been fostering since the evening before. When she pulled up to us and got out of the car I couldn't get out of the car fast enough to run into her arms. She was and still is so beautiful to me and I never wanted to leave her again. Then just when my reunion didn't seem like it could get any better out of the car came flying a giant cotton ball! Butchy! My beloved terrier mix and his cute as all get out curly Q of a tail! He was by far the happiest person to see me! Sure, my mom missed me like any good mother would, but a loyal animal loves you like none other! I would turn to that dog more often than not pretty soon.
We said our goodbye's to my uncle and his wife and my mom, with inexplicable tears in her eyes thanked them over and over again. I didn't know why, I guess I assumed that she was just that happy to see me. She got back in the car, and drove home. We talked the whole 4 hr drive back. I tried to nap in her lap but I was keyed up and rarin' to go! So when we eventually did roll into our drive way at 7:30 in the morning on July 1st, 1993, I had forgotten the circumstances that had brought me back so early. My brother's and sister came tearing out of the house in the morning glow, all still in their pajama's, with their bed heads still evident. It was a joyous reunion. One that I have turned to in times of great frustration with one or the other since.
My father was up and kindly ordered my mother and I to go to bed since it had been a long night. So, we did. And we slept for 12 or 13 hrs. Something like that. All I remember is that when we got up, everyone had been put to bed and dad was either in bed too, or he had gone to work. I can't really recall if mom and I woke at the same time or if she woke me up. Any how, mom asked me if I was hungry, and of course, I was. So while our dinner cooked, we sat in the blanching glow of the over the counter fluorescent light. She began to play with my hair. I loved it when she did that. It was like a bonding exercise, it soothed me and now, looking back, I realize that was mom's master plan. She was gearing up to drop THE atomic bomb of all childhood's on my still groggy head
Monday, September 28, 2009
And so it begins...
Please, those of you with the bleeding hearts and equal rights brains, do not assume that this whole thing will be about dad hating and man bashing. It isn't. These are my true perceptions, my true recolections of events that occured in MY life. This is only the begining! There is more to come, more indifferences, whether actual or percieved on both parents parts as well as future acquaintances.
For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to be a mermaid. Now, no laughing,I'm serious! It wasn't so much that I wanted to be a fish, but more that I wanted the romanticism of my first ever Disney movie. At the age of 8, I was already a hopeless romantic, and sadly I knew why.
Our family was a typical one in that there were parents and children. But I always felt something was missing from the make up of our family. I could never really grasp it, and honestly I'm not even sure that I could now. All i knew is that there always seemed to be varying levels of barriers between all of us. My sister and I were never really close, we're two years and 364 days apart. She was born a day before my third birthday. I am told that I was ecstatic for a short time, then apparently wanted my parents to take her back! I still chuckle thinking about my three year old self deciding one day that my parents are just going to have to give her back, I was over the new toy feel. In the years to come, I would constantly wonder as to why they decided not to.
My brothers, in my memory, have always been as thick as thieves. They, unlike my sister and I, are close in age, one being born in '89 the other in '90. So it would only seem natural that they be close. I kind of always envied that of them. I am the oldest, there for inexplicably regarded as the coolest. I know, I know, that sounds ridiculously conceited, but think about it. The oldest, regardless of the sex, is always, always, always followed and mimicked. And I was. Relentlessly!
But now, that I'm older, I am appreciating it so much. If I had known in my younger years that my brothers would be hero's and my sister would struggle constantly to find herself, I think that I would have been more tolerating of it all. But hindsight is 20/20, and the further I go along here, the more I'm sure I will realize this proves true.
The earliest memory that I can conjure up about my life is just before we moved from Portsmouth, Virginia to Ohio. It's really not an important life memory, I just remember my play room and that it was a total wreck! And I'm playing with my fake bakery set. You know the one I'm talking about, it had cupcakes with detachable icings in all three important flavors!? Oh yeah! Don't ask why that is the memory that is my first ever, I'm sure that there are earlier one's but they don't seem to be significant to me like the rubber cupcakes in the messy play room do!
But once we moved here to Ohio, boy, do the memories seem to be in abundance! I can remember my tire swing. They day my daddy put it up for us, and subsequently, the day I took it down! Wow, the pain of that tree root slamming into my back at 30 mph in a hard spin is still sharp! * shudders* I can remember ever single one of our neighborhood imagination fests! There were about twelve kids total in our little hamlet of New Reading. We had some great times together. My favorite childhood memory hands down, was the year we had the worst blizzard, snowstorm, what have you, since the 70's. All of the neighborhood kids got together and since the roads were closed, we built whole cities in the snowbanks on the sides of the roads! It was great! we built and played in them all day long! It was so cold that day but none of us cared! We were free! If you've ever watched the movie "Stand By Me" with Richard Dreyfus, Cory Feldman, River Phoenix, and Jerry O'Connell, and gotten that flash back to your childhood, you know what I'm talking about. But that day, that day was special. That day was the last time that i would feel that bliss of childhood so strongly. I never again had a day like that snow day.
That following summer, my uncle decided to ask me if I wanted to come spend the summer with him in Virginia. I hesitantly accepted. I had never been away from home that long let alone that far! I was 9 going on 10 that summer, and I felt something in me kinda pipe up that it wouldn't be a good idea to go. I felt for some reason that I should stay, that I was going to be needed. But the allure of being the only child, so to speak, for two and a half months was much louder. So I went. I had a blast! I made new friends, my uncles ex-wife took me to the bay for jet skiing, i got my name spelled out in the water...it was great! But unfortunately, my birthday came.
There I was celebrating my 10th birthday with this wonderfully large party my uncle, his wife, and their neighbors had set up when my uncle gets a phone call. That phone call irrevocably changed my life, and not for the better.
I could only hear my uncle's half of the conversation but that was enough to scare the shit out of me. At first it was just a concerned look on my uncle's face that caught my attention. Then it was him raising his voice demanding to know what HE did. I wasn't sure who HE was but it didn't sound like a good thing. Then he's trying to get the caller to calm down, and to do so he has to say their name to get their attention. The name he says is my mothers. My heart lurched. For some reason, and still to this day I have no idea why, the first thought to come to my 10 year old mind was that HE had hit my mother. I had surmised that HE was my father. Again, I have no logic behind that thought. My father had never once laid a hand on my mother. So why then was that what I automatically assumed? Strange how a child's mind works sometimes.
As the conversation wore on, I began to realize that I had had a sort of foresight, a premonition if you will, to this occurrence. When my uncle had asked me to come stay with him, I had that slight feeling of dread. Then I had the thought that I was going to be needed. Silly as it sounds, sitting there, I began to feel as if it was all my fault. Ridiculous, i know! But I did and i started to cry. By then my uncle was wrapping up the conversation and I knew instinctively that he was going to need to talk to me. But he didn't. He hung up the phone and talked with his wife for a short minute, and then he called me over. He wasn't revealing anything in his voice or on his face. He simply told me to go upstairs and pack all my stuff, that they had a surprise for me. I did as i was told but I had no idea that this surprise would be one of the best and worst surprises I would ever get.
For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to be a mermaid. Now, no laughing,I'm serious! It wasn't so much that I wanted to be a fish, but more that I wanted the romanticism of my first ever Disney movie. At the age of 8, I was already a hopeless romantic, and sadly I knew why.
Our family was a typical one in that there were parents and children. But I always felt something was missing from the make up of our family. I could never really grasp it, and honestly I'm not even sure that I could now. All i knew is that there always seemed to be varying levels of barriers between all of us. My sister and I were never really close, we're two years and 364 days apart. She was born a day before my third birthday. I am told that I was ecstatic for a short time, then apparently wanted my parents to take her back! I still chuckle thinking about my three year old self deciding one day that my parents are just going to have to give her back, I was over the new toy feel. In the years to come, I would constantly wonder as to why they decided not to.
My brothers, in my memory, have always been as thick as thieves. They, unlike my sister and I, are close in age, one being born in '89 the other in '90. So it would only seem natural that they be close. I kind of always envied that of them. I am the oldest, there for inexplicably regarded as the coolest. I know, I know, that sounds ridiculously conceited, but think about it. The oldest, regardless of the sex, is always, always, always followed and mimicked. And I was. Relentlessly!
But now, that I'm older, I am appreciating it so much. If I had known in my younger years that my brothers would be hero's and my sister would struggle constantly to find herself, I think that I would have been more tolerating of it all. But hindsight is 20/20, and the further I go along here, the more I'm sure I will realize this proves true.
The earliest memory that I can conjure up about my life is just before we moved from Portsmouth, Virginia to Ohio. It's really not an important life memory, I just remember my play room and that it was a total wreck! And I'm playing with my fake bakery set. You know the one I'm talking about, it had cupcakes with detachable icings in all three important flavors!? Oh yeah! Don't ask why that is the memory that is my first ever, I'm sure that there are earlier one's but they don't seem to be significant to me like the rubber cupcakes in the messy play room do!
But once we moved here to Ohio, boy, do the memories seem to be in abundance! I can remember my tire swing. They day my daddy put it up for us, and subsequently, the day I took it down! Wow, the pain of that tree root slamming into my back at 30 mph in a hard spin is still sharp! * shudders* I can remember ever single one of our neighborhood imagination fests! There were about twelve kids total in our little hamlet of New Reading. We had some great times together. My favorite childhood memory hands down, was the year we had the worst blizzard, snowstorm, what have you, since the 70's. All of the neighborhood kids got together and since the roads were closed, we built whole cities in the snowbanks on the sides of the roads! It was great! we built and played in them all day long! It was so cold that day but none of us cared! We were free! If you've ever watched the movie "Stand By Me" with Richard Dreyfus, Cory Feldman, River Phoenix, and Jerry O'Connell, and gotten that flash back to your childhood, you know what I'm talking about. But that day, that day was special. That day was the last time that i would feel that bliss of childhood so strongly. I never again had a day like that snow day.
That following summer, my uncle decided to ask me if I wanted to come spend the summer with him in Virginia. I hesitantly accepted. I had never been away from home that long let alone that far! I was 9 going on 10 that summer, and I felt something in me kinda pipe up that it wouldn't be a good idea to go. I felt for some reason that I should stay, that I was going to be needed. But the allure of being the only child, so to speak, for two and a half months was much louder. So I went. I had a blast! I made new friends, my uncles ex-wife took me to the bay for jet skiing, i got my name spelled out in the water...it was great! But unfortunately, my birthday came.
There I was celebrating my 10th birthday with this wonderfully large party my uncle, his wife, and their neighbors had set up when my uncle gets a phone call. That phone call irrevocably changed my life, and not for the better.
I could only hear my uncle's half of the conversation but that was enough to scare the shit out of me. At first it was just a concerned look on my uncle's face that caught my attention. Then it was him raising his voice demanding to know what HE did. I wasn't sure who HE was but it didn't sound like a good thing. Then he's trying to get the caller to calm down, and to do so he has to say their name to get their attention. The name he says is my mothers. My heart lurched. For some reason, and still to this day I have no idea why, the first thought to come to my 10 year old mind was that HE had hit my mother. I had surmised that HE was my father. Again, I have no logic behind that thought. My father had never once laid a hand on my mother. So why then was that what I automatically assumed? Strange how a child's mind works sometimes.
As the conversation wore on, I began to realize that I had had a sort of foresight, a premonition if you will, to this occurrence. When my uncle had asked me to come stay with him, I had that slight feeling of dread. Then I had the thought that I was going to be needed. Silly as it sounds, sitting there, I began to feel as if it was all my fault. Ridiculous, i know! But I did and i started to cry. By then my uncle was wrapping up the conversation and I knew instinctively that he was going to need to talk to me. But he didn't. He hung up the phone and talked with his wife for a short minute, and then he called me over. He wasn't revealing anything in his voice or on his face. He simply told me to go upstairs and pack all my stuff, that they had a surprise for me. I did as i was told but I had no idea that this surprise would be one of the best and worst surprises I would ever get.
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