Sunday, August 10, 2008

The early years, part 3

So we moved here, and started a new life. We spent a couple of days with some of the uncle's friends until we found a new place to live. Then we found one, and moved in on my brother's birthday. It was a little wartime house not far from where my mom lives now. It's funny actually, my son goes to the same school I went to when we first moved here. He was even in the same room for kindergarten.

Anyhow, the house was small, and it wasn't enough room for all of us. There were two bedrooms and it was my two brothers and I in one room, and my mom and uncle (the same uncle who 'rescued' us, my father's brother) in the other. I seem to recall there was a fella living with us for a while too.

My father wasn't the type to give up easily, and he found us, which was my mother's worst nightmare. He fought his way into the house, and me being a budding insomniac at 5, was awake, and peeking through the door at all the commotion.

I don't remember what I saw or heard from that night. I remember peeking through the door, and I remember the fella from the couch was cowering in the bathroom (which was right by our bedroom), and I remember from that day forward, I referred to my father as 'the evil one'.

You know, it's odd. for all the things I remember, I can't recall my father's face. I can see him in the mornings poking his head in my door, but he's a tall slim man with great hair and no face.

Anyhow... after that night, I never saw my father again. It wasn't until recently (as in a few months ago) that I asked my mom about him, telling her I needed closure that she told me that she's pretty sure he's dead. I guess the government was going after him for child support so they wouldn't have to pay mother's allowance, and one day sent her a note saying 'Due to events that have occurred, we are no longer pursuing this matter'. I wouldn't even know the first thing about finding him, so for now, the tale of my father is done.

I'd love to say that my childhood from here was idyllic, however, that is sadly not the case at all. For my family, moving from the city was like being saved. For me though, I was out of the frying pan, and into the fire, and we didn't know it yet.

Since the house we were in was too small, we found another house after school ended. I wasn't involved in the move, because well, I was 6, and totally was no help at all. They left me in the care of friends down the street, and promptly forgot about me.

Literally.

They finished the move. Ordered the pizza. Opened some beers, and started to relax. Then suddenly someone asked "Where's Shana?" By this point, I was getting worried. I hadn't seen the truck for a while, and while I didn't know I had emotional issues yet, they really started to surface and solidify right there.

Anyhow, they found me, and brought me to my new home. I got to work straight away at getting my bedroom just right. It was my own bedroom in an actual HOUSE! I was so excited. I played my record with the song 'how much is that doggy in the window' over and over, and I had most of my unpacking done in that first evening.

In that moment, and only in that moment my room was perfect. My bed was in the right place, and it was an actual BED! (in the other house, I'd been on a mattress on a box spring on the floor, which was kind of neat, but a bed was so awesome!) For the briefest moment in time, everything felt good.

Too bad one of the first lessons I learned is that happiness doesn't last. And that, will be the story I tell next time.

3 comments:

eva said...

my friend had a postcard up on his wall with the text "my body is not a temple - it's an amusement park". it made a lot of sense to me at the time as that was the way i treated it with mad partying etc, but after a while my amusement park got very run down and the main office wasn't functioning well and i was forced to treat my amusement park like the temple it is to get it running again.. it took a lot of time, but it was worth the effort! was that making any sense??

Elise said...

Are you sure you don't want to write a book, Shana? XD You're great at telling the story of your life and I like your sense of honesty in these posts. You're not sugar coating anything, just putting it all out there, which is very commendable and the way it should be. I'm hooked on these posts and I can't wait to read more! ^^

Shana-Marie said...

Eva - I think I see where you're going with that...

Elise - I'd love to write it into a book one day... and maybe I will.. there's so much that's not going into the blog, because it's not the right format to get all the details just right...
:) thanks...