Feb 182012
 

after the longest few minutes she could remember in a long time, she finally just floored it… leaving the driveway and the monster behind…. in her mind, somewhere in the abyss, she knew this was the last load… it wasn’t everything… there was no way she could have gotten all the precious things of her life… but she had the most precious thing… her child…and her safety.

there were so many things left behind… she thought maybe she could go back in a few days, with a truck and some help, and get the rest of her things… her clothes, some furniture that belonged in her family, some heirloom knick knacks… her baby girl’s things.. toys, crib, clothes… and pictures… oh the pictures…

she drove down the highway trying to see through the tears, through the pain. she tried to stay on the road as she comforted her baby… poor girl was crying so hard. so much confusion and anger hung in the air. there was only one place she could go – it was a place she knew she would be accepted and loved, sheltered and protected.

her father was waiting for her. of course he would take them in. of course he would help her. he even gave up his room for her and the baby… he moved to the couch. she felt so guilty about the sacrifices that were made for her. and again, she tried to think of her options… there weren’t many, if any at all.

the last load was taken into the house. she and the baby tried to get settled into the new room. so calm – it was painted a light blue and there were shutters on the windows. she laid on the bed and cried. and cried. she wondered how long it would be before the monster showed up. she thought he would be there soon – he was not a man who would give up the fight, even if it was a fight that was already over. when she left him in the driveway, she knew it would be his ego that suffered, his machismo… what would his friends think? he let his wife leave with the child. he allowed her to make a choice without his knowledge.

so she cried and wondered. a day went by…she heard from a friend who had gone to check on him. he was found passed out on the living room floor… and a large fire burned in the front yard. all of her things. burning. the clothes, the pictures… and all the baby girl’s things too… her crib, her clothes, her toys… who would do such a thing? how could he burn his child’s things?

a week went by…no news

a month went by… still no news… she hadn’t heard from him… she hadn’t seen him… what sort of father would stay away from his child like that?

about six weeks after she left his driveway, he called…..

Being an adult is like looking both ways before you cross the street and then getting hit by an airplane.

  8 Responses to “she cried”

  1. Thanks so much for your kind words and insight with TN. Man. Who knew. Infusion in progress and tomorrow will be a better day. Hope yours will be too. Warriors in the same fight:-)

  2. The pain a person can cause to another is great. Your letting go and moving forward shows a grace, of understanding that at times, it’s for the best to give a little one a chance to grow without fear.

  3. I’m so glad that you’re both safe now; you’re getting as bad as Sherry with the cliffhangers. I’ll wait for Part 2, patiently tapping my foot.

  4. Powerful writing. Thank you. And I am sorry for the truth behind it. I hope that writing can go some way to eradicating the memories.

  5. The writing is beautiful, but I’m detecting that this isn’t fiction. I dread asking if this is you…
    Peace,
    Muff

 Leave a Reply

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

(required)

%d bloggers like this: