My Grandmother at this point realized something was wrong with me, she didn't know what but she knew that I was having problems. I had already been removed from the public school system due to the principal questioning my near constant injuries, and I was back down to a dangerously low weight.
Grandmother nursed me back to health and when I was able to stand for more than a few minutes at a time she taught me how to cook, garden, and tend house. She and I spent most of our time together in the kitchen with breaks to go pick whatever was ready to be brought in that day and crocheting while we took turns stirring pots of sauce, stew, and the like.
My grandfather had always favored me and was intent on spoiling all of his grandchildren, he would kidnap me from my place in the kitchen several nights a week and take me to McDonald's or the ice cream parlor, it was a great summer. Around the end of the summer all of my cousins were in, we all lived down in the basement where the toys, games, and the least amount of breakables could be found. One night, several hours after bedtime my grandfather sneaked down the stairs with a box full of bowls, spoons, ice cream and toppings, then proceeded to wake us all up for an ice cream party. What made the night so great was my grandmother, who was usually a stickler for bedtime came down and ate ice cream and played board games with us. It was the last big event at my grandparents house.
After that night my cousins went home to get ready to go back to school, I stayed for another week or two before my mother showed up to carry me off to the ends of the world again. I think we'll stop here, I don't want to ruin all of this good with any bad.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Maine
If there is anything more miserable than January in Maine I have yet to discover it. Don't get me wrong, Maine is a beautiful part of the US, The architecture is awesome, and the people generally quite friendly. The problem with Maine is that it's so damn cold all winter long.
When we arrived at the bungalow my mother had found I was asleep, I stayed that way until all the heat had trickled out of the car, if there ever was any heat in the first place that is. My mother not only rarely felt hunger but seemed immune to the cold as well. After sitting up and looking around, searching for anything familiar, I spotted the house through the snow and forced myself out of the car and into the mini blizzard. I've no idea how long it took me to cross that yard, at the time I truly felt like it took hours, in truth it was probably only a few minutes. I stepped into a drift at one point and got lost for a moment before spotting the light in a window, beyond grateful that she had left a light on for me I darted the last few yards to the house and slammed through the door. Big mistake... Mother did not like noise, not one bit. The moment the door slammed shut my face slammed into the door, the hot blood was actually comforting, it warmed my face, unfortunately the comfort was short lived. Once I had regained some of my senses I realized that I couldn't breathe, I was laying in the floor, against the door watching my mother in a blind rage kick in my direction.
The next morning I realized that my ribs had been her target and that they didn't look quite right. I was bruised pretty much everywhere and my left side seemed to have collapsed. I managed to get myself to the bathroom and when I looked in the mirror I couldn't even recognize myself. I spent the next week or two in bed, I honestly don't know how long it was, when I finally started trying to move around the house most of the bruises were gone, my ribs still looked wrong and hurt but I could deal with it.
I went into the kitchen hoping for something, anything to eat, if not eat at least a glass of milk. All I had taken in since that night was water from the bathroom sink. After digging through the pantry and refrigerator I accepted the reality that there was in fact no food in the kitchen and made my way back to the room I had claimed. That's where I tripped over my little backpack, my toe had hit something hard and smarted a bit so I decided to see what had caused the discomfort. Inside my bag were several cans of food from New York, I had completely forgotten about grabbing them and was beyond excited to know there was something to eat. Unfortunately I did not bring a can opener, when I realized this I sat down, exhausted, and started sobbing. Later that day I succeeded in beating the can with a rock until it opened for me, those cold beans were possibly the best meal I had ever eaten.
Maine was relatively short lived, by Valentines day we were on the road again. We finally ended up in Florida, dad was there and so was all of his immediate family. Most of them I had met only once and barely remembered but it didn't take long for them to feel like family. I started gaining weight again and energy, I was able to climb my grandfathers grapefruit tree by Easter, a task that I never could have managed a few months prior.
Things went well for a while, I started to relax and let myself believe it was all going to be alright. Then one night dad went with a couple of the guys from work to watch a game and I was left alone with my mother. I tried to slip off to bed and stay out of her way, it didn't work. I made it as far as the door to my room before she noticed me. She yelled at me to go start a shower, that she needed to wash up. I knew what this meant and I fell apart, I was on my knees sobbing when she came up behind me and grabbed my hair to haul me into the bathroom. She forced me to my knees in front of her and handed me a bottle of liquid soap before telling me to get to it. I left that bathroom broken, spiritually and physically. That was the last night I spent in Florida for many years.
I honestly don't know where I spent the next few months, I think I blocked them from my memory. By midsummer she had deposited me at my grandparents house in North Carolina and had disappeared again.
I need a break, and you probably do too. We'll talk again later.
When we arrived at the bungalow my mother had found I was asleep, I stayed that way until all the heat had trickled out of the car, if there ever was any heat in the first place that is. My mother not only rarely felt hunger but seemed immune to the cold as well. After sitting up and looking around, searching for anything familiar, I spotted the house through the snow and forced myself out of the car and into the mini blizzard. I've no idea how long it took me to cross that yard, at the time I truly felt like it took hours, in truth it was probably only a few minutes. I stepped into a drift at one point and got lost for a moment before spotting the light in a window, beyond grateful that she had left a light on for me I darted the last few yards to the house and slammed through the door. Big mistake... Mother did not like noise, not one bit. The moment the door slammed shut my face slammed into the door, the hot blood was actually comforting, it warmed my face, unfortunately the comfort was short lived. Once I had regained some of my senses I realized that I couldn't breathe, I was laying in the floor, against the door watching my mother in a blind rage kick in my direction.
The next morning I realized that my ribs had been her target and that they didn't look quite right. I was bruised pretty much everywhere and my left side seemed to have collapsed. I managed to get myself to the bathroom and when I looked in the mirror I couldn't even recognize myself. I spent the next week or two in bed, I honestly don't know how long it was, when I finally started trying to move around the house most of the bruises were gone, my ribs still looked wrong and hurt but I could deal with it.
I went into the kitchen hoping for something, anything to eat, if not eat at least a glass of milk. All I had taken in since that night was water from the bathroom sink. After digging through the pantry and refrigerator I accepted the reality that there was in fact no food in the kitchen and made my way back to the room I had claimed. That's where I tripped over my little backpack, my toe had hit something hard and smarted a bit so I decided to see what had caused the discomfort. Inside my bag were several cans of food from New York, I had completely forgotten about grabbing them and was beyond excited to know there was something to eat. Unfortunately I did not bring a can opener, when I realized this I sat down, exhausted, and started sobbing. Later that day I succeeded in beating the can with a rock until it opened for me, those cold beans were possibly the best meal I had ever eaten.
Maine was relatively short lived, by Valentines day we were on the road again. We finally ended up in Florida, dad was there and so was all of his immediate family. Most of them I had met only once and barely remembered but it didn't take long for them to feel like family. I started gaining weight again and energy, I was able to climb my grandfathers grapefruit tree by Easter, a task that I never could have managed a few months prior.
Things went well for a while, I started to relax and let myself believe it was all going to be alright. Then one night dad went with a couple of the guys from work to watch a game and I was left alone with my mother. I tried to slip off to bed and stay out of her way, it didn't work. I made it as far as the door to my room before she noticed me. She yelled at me to go start a shower, that she needed to wash up. I knew what this meant and I fell apart, I was on my knees sobbing when she came up behind me and grabbed my hair to haul me into the bathroom. She forced me to my knees in front of her and handed me a bottle of liquid soap before telling me to get to it. I left that bathroom broken, spiritually and physically. That was the last night I spent in Florida for many years.
I honestly don't know where I spent the next few months, I think I blocked them from my memory. By midsummer she had deposited me at my grandparents house in North Carolina and had disappeared again.
I need a break, and you probably do too. We'll talk again later.
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