Sunday, August 10, 2008

The early years, part 2

So, like I said, I don't recall much of my childhood. What I do have are some images, and feelings more than anything. I'm sure it's the same for most kids really.
Heck, I ask the little man about things we did last week and he looks at me like I've got six heads, but then again, I"m used to that.


They got me home from the hospital, and automatically, the family cat hates me. Anyone who's ever owned a Siamese cat knows what I'm saying when I say they're territorial. See, they had my brothers, then they got Kitty Cat (aka Sapphire) so she was the baby. Then I came home and usurped her position. She took offence, and made it her goal to make my life hell.

So, we were still in the 'burbs, and living in an apartment.

I recall things like...

  • my brothers friends telling me that since I was a girl I should have the skills to sew a worm back together.

  • The girls in the apartment above us used to dangle their feet down and my brothers would tickle them.

  • We built a snow fort in behind the building, and the boys tried to bury me alive (not seriously though).

  • The brothers telling a friend that I had a brown belt in Karate, and showing off my brown faux leather belt as proof.

  • I remember the basic layout of the apartment.

  • I remember we were in apt 408.

  • The boys had bunk beds, and a tv in their room.

  • Staying home from school sick, my mom set me up in her big bed, and let me have soft boiled eggs for breakfast. She made toast, and cut it into thin strips so I could dip it in the yolk.

  • One night, my mom was trying to get my father from their bed into the bathroom. She was half dragging him, and for some reason I was awake, and trying to help by counting the steps that he had left to get there.

  • My daddy (and only in this image do I get the feeling of him as daddy) poking his head in my door to look in at me before going to work.

  • Standing on the end of my bed to get my clothes from my closet, and how that used to panic my mom.

  • And big crayons that my father would bring home from his job (he used to xray the welded joints in many buildings. I'm told he wasn't above taking bribes)

  • The car accident that shattered B1's leg, and the crutches he was on for months after that.

  • The final thing I recall from this period of my life is waking up in the middle of the night, grabbing what few things we could and getting into my Uncle's car. I remember I cried and cried because the unicorn that my brothers had given me for christmas that year was one of the things I left behind.

  • I think I remember seeing my father sprawled on the living room floor as we left... but I'm not sure.

I guess that's more than a lot of people remember about their lives to 5...

Anyhow, yea, we fled the 'burbs with my uncle in the middle of the night at the end of January.

See... my father had a few problems. The first was he was an alcoholic. The second was he was a drug addict. The third was he liked to hit my mom. And when I say hit, I mean beat the living shit out of her.

By this point, she'd been with him for probably 10 years or so, and enough was finally enough.

I never asked what finally made her break and run, all I know is that she did. I did overhear a number of conversations from after we left, things I don't think she ever intended me to hear, things I shouldn't have heard, and things I read into, but that's a story for later. For now, I'll leave you with the night that we left the city.


Elise said...

That sounds like a somewhat traumatic childhood... Growing up being the only girl and with a father with all of those problems... I'm sorry you had to live with all of that at such an early age. My husband had a similar experience with his father.

Shana-Marie said...


Thankfully I have no memory of what happened with my father... I just have the stories that my mom and my brother would tell me when they'd drink...