It's late at night when the sound of yelling wakes up the sleeping five year old. She sits up in bed, her red hair a tangle of curls on her head, and sleepy green eyes look around her dark room.
Kicking back her blankets, she slips off her bed, bare feet making no noise across the horrible red and black carpet. As she peers through the open door, and around the corner, she can clearly hear her mum and dad arguing. At first, this confuses her. Her parents didn't argue, they loved each other, and they loved their kids.
Out loud, she calls for her mum, and the arguing stops and a tall woman with curly blonde hair comes around the corner, a small smile of her face. She picks up her daughter, asking what she was doing awake, then proceeds to tuck the small girl back in bed.
Every night for nearly four months, her parents argue until finally one day, her dad announces that he's got a business trip he needs to go on, and will be away for a while. When asked if she could go too, the five year old was told sternly, "It's only for a short while, Ellie, and I'll be home before you know it."
A week later, Ellie woke up to a loud crash. Thinking there was a monster, at first she cowered under her mum's blanket, but then her thought's turned to her baby brother. So forcing herself up, she marched into the living room, intent on protecting her brother. Instead of the scene she was expecting, what Ellie saw instead was her mother sitting on the floor, crying, a kitchen chair was thrown across the room.
Wrapping her small arms around her mum's, she realized the truth of what was going on. Her dad had lied. He was gone. He was never coming back. For weeks after, he mother constantly told her that it wasn't Ellie's fault. But it was. She didn't know how, just was. Maybe if she'd been good, and hadn't been such a brat, or maybe if she had done better in school, and not tried to get in trouble so much.
It was her fault her baby brother wouldn't have a dad.
NOTE:
Another thing that really happened. This is actually a memory of my own, I just changed the name. My parents divorced when I was a child, and I always thought it was my fault, that I didn't behave enough for my dad to still love me.
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood. Show all posts
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Ostrich
We never learn about them in school, and they are hardly mentioned on tv, but in my house, we've got a really old picture hanging above the mantle. It's a family member from the 1820s of someone on my mother's side wearing a hat with ostrich feathers, and a young girl clinging to her arm. Then there was my great grandpa who lived in Florida who had an ostrich drawn cart. I wish I had more then just a photo of that.
Papa used to own a farm too, but he sold it after just a few years because Nana didn't like them. That was before even my dad was born, and even he used to say that he was disappointed that Nana disliked the farm.
Would it be strange if I said that I was one day going to have my own ostrich farm? I promised Papa, and my dad that I would. Nana will be frowning on me from Heaven, or at least that's what Leah, my big sister says. She follows Nana's rules to a T.
But back to my dream. It's strange to say the least, most kids my age wanna be actors, or singers, but I'm the only one who does. At least Teddy agrees.
Papa used to own a farm too, but he sold it after just a few years because Nana didn't like them. That was before even my dad was born, and even he used to say that he was disappointed that Nana disliked the farm.
Would it be strange if I said that I was one day going to have my own ostrich farm? I promised Papa, and my dad that I would. Nana will be frowning on me from Heaven, or at least that's what Leah, my big sister says. She follows Nana's rules to a T.
But back to my dream. It's strange to say the least, most kids my age wanna be actors, or singers, but I'm the only one who does. At least Teddy agrees.
Apple
Opening my lunch, I peer in, analyzing everything that had been placed neatly inside. A ham sandwich, a granola bar, a couple of homemade chocolate chip cookies, and the dreaded fruit… This time it happened to be an apple.
Everyday, I faced the same dilemma. A fruit I disliked. At least now, my mother gave up on packing oranges, I couldn't stand those, not the colour, or the taste, and especially not the smell. Apples on the other hand, I disliked, but I could stand to force one down.
As I glanced around the noisy classroom, I noticed the teacher smiling sweetly at me. Her look translated to 'you'd-better-eat-everything-in-your-lunch-today-or-I'm-going-to-call-your-mother-again'. Yesterday, when I walked home through the snow, my mother had been waiting for me, her arms crossed, and an annoyed look on her face. She'd asked me why I'd traded my apple for someone's banana, and I was forced yet again, to explain that banana's were my favourite fruit, not apples.
Yet again, I lost the argument. So today, it was an apple. I took a bite of the crunchy fruit, and quickly finished the dreaded thing, and moved on to my cookies.
No phone call tonight, I thought smugly.
Everyday, I faced the same dilemma. A fruit I disliked. At least now, my mother gave up on packing oranges, I couldn't stand those, not the colour, or the taste, and especially not the smell. Apples on the other hand, I disliked, but I could stand to force one down.
As I glanced around the noisy classroom, I noticed the teacher smiling sweetly at me. Her look translated to 'you'd-better-eat-everything-in-your-lunch-today-or-I'm-going-to-call-your-mother-again'. Yesterday, when I walked home through the snow, my mother had been waiting for me, her arms crossed, and an annoyed look on her face. She'd asked me why I'd traded my apple for someone's banana, and I was forced yet again, to explain that banana's were my favourite fruit, not apples.
Yet again, I lost the argument. So today, it was an apple. I took a bite of the crunchy fruit, and quickly finished the dreaded thing, and moved on to my cookies.
No phone call tonight, I thought smugly.
Orange
Remember being in public school, and at the beginning of every year the teachers would do fun little games so they could get to know you a little better (they still do this in high school) and one of the questions were always'What's your favourite colour?' ?
The kid next to you is furiously filling in the questions in a messy scrawl, and you look back at you're your own paper, and you've only filled in your name. The first question just happens to be the colour one. At first you write in orange, then after a minute, you erase it and fill in another colour, and erase that. Then ten minutes later, it's back to orange.
Then you move on to the other questions, each one taking several minutes to answer. When you look around the room, and you are sighing with relief that you aren't the only one who didn't only take ten minutes on the sheet. The teacher sees you and smiles, and you think that she's hoping that you take another ten minutes on it so she can avoid trying to get the class's attention for a few more minutes.
As you get older, the question doesn't get any easier, and every year it starts to get a little more annoying to come up with the answers. By the time you reach high school, you're now just scrawling answers in, trying to make it seem like you are sincere in your answers. But the truth is, they have over used the questions. But throughout the past ten years, orange was always your favourite colour.
The kid next to you is furiously filling in the questions in a messy scrawl, and you look back at you're your own paper, and you've only filled in your name. The first question just happens to be the colour one. At first you write in orange, then after a minute, you erase it and fill in another colour, and erase that. Then ten minutes later, it's back to orange.
Then you move on to the other questions, each one taking several minutes to answer. When you look around the room, and you are sighing with relief that you aren't the only one who didn't only take ten minutes on the sheet. The teacher sees you and smiles, and you think that she's hoping that you take another ten minutes on it so she can avoid trying to get the class's attention for a few more minutes.
As you get older, the question doesn't get any easier, and every year it starts to get a little more annoying to come up with the answers. By the time you reach high school, you're now just scrawling answers in, trying to make it seem like you are sincere in your answers. But the truth is, they have over used the questions. But throughout the past ten years, orange was always your favourite colour.
Cartoon
Saturday mornings held a lot of memories, memories of waking up at seven in the morning just to sit in front of the television for hours watching cartoons. Even as I grew older, I continued with the early mornings, rewatching everything I'd seen from the age of three.
When I turned thirteen, those memories stopped. Why? Because I thought that as a teenager, I was too old to watch cartoons anymore. I regret this decision. It was a stupid mistake, but I cannot find it in myself to take back what I said, and go join my family. I have far too much pride in me for that.
So instead, I'll sit here in the kitchen where I can hear the tv, but no longer see the moving pictures that I used to love as a child.
NOTE:
Some small word prompts I wrote in 2010. Several more to follow.
When I turned thirteen, those memories stopped. Why? Because I thought that as a teenager, I was too old to watch cartoons anymore. I regret this decision. It was a stupid mistake, but I cannot find it in myself to take back what I said, and go join my family. I have far too much pride in me for that.
So instead, I'll sit here in the kitchen where I can hear the tv, but no longer see the moving pictures that I used to love as a child.
NOTE:
Some small word prompts I wrote in 2010. Several more to follow.