it goes round and round.
I was entering 6th grade, it was and adjustment to a new school, but this time would be different. It was the longest period of time I would spend in one school. The following three years would give me insight and vision to the world around me.I was no longer an outsider and I didn't follow in the shadows of my sisters or family. I for the first time was bonding making friends and feeling the magic of acceptance. If there could be a calm or a sense of security this was the time, if there ever was a time.
I had made a friend with the young girl, a few doors away, she would be the longest friend of childhood, one that would be in my life for more then a couple of months. People thought we were sisters, same height, and build. Entering her life, was for me a learning experiencing, how to be a child. She taught me how to play jacks, skip rope and a game called 7 up. Her family was middle class America, two parents working, her father the friendly drunk and her mother stern and head of the family. This was my first glimpse of how other families lived, outside by own. We spent hour upon hours together.
The school we attended was a few miles away, she took the bus and I walked. Before you know it she was saving her bus money to buy hot dogs at this little hot dog shop in a not so friendly neighborhood and walking the few miles home with me each day. The friendship and the new school had become a reality escape, where I could physically get away.
I can remember my mother in a lot of ways but never sick or in bed or just laying around during the day. This one day was a exception, home from school, I found her laying in bed. I’m home, I called out! I walked up the steps and the house was quiet. My father was in the bedroom and my mother laid quiet and still. Is she ok I asked? I can’t recall his response at that moment. I walked over to her, her eyes glazed like glass and as still as the night. I tried to get her to answer me, father was rambling, not uncommon for him to go on for hours of non stop talking and yelling. I knew something was wrong and I didn’t know what,.she needs a doctor, we need to call a doctor. This I remember clearly, he said let her die! Frightened and unsure of what was going on. Can you believe that to his point I had never used a telephone, the mysterious black thing a ma jigger that was off limits to the children.
The age span had meant only two of us were left at home. Everyone who could, moved out at a very young age. My brother to the military, my eldest sister took it to the courts an fought for emancipation and gained independents at sixteen with the stipulation that she kept a full time job and continued schooling. The third born well she was the runaway and I lost track of how many times. This just left my youngest sister and I. Father wouldn’t let me leave the house, I thought if I could get to a neighbor I could have them call 911 the emergency phone number. My little sister stumbled in. Father was pacing back and forth between the rooms, yelling, I quickly I pulled her aside, you need to go to the neighbors they need to call for help. Within seconds I managed to get her out the door. The whole time mother never moved. Father was yelling, she deserves to die, It will be good to be rid of her.
The paramedics arrived quickly and took her to the hospital. Mother had seizures, and though I am not sure if she had several that day or one was coming on. We heard all the nonsense during the fighting period, but we were never respected to be confided in to what was going on. I had no real concept of their financial situation nor there medical one.
The calm was soon coming to an end, replaced with the sounds of domestic violence in action, the battles of the extreme. The first thought in the morning was how was the day going to be and who would end up killing who, the last thought at night “ Please Lord Make Them Stop”. A chill comes over me as I write, how could this violence be happening to people who proposed to love each other.