It rained during the night.
Today was filled with beautiful skies and cool air. Cold to us :)
I've been looking over some old writing. There is a small collection of personal writing. This is one of them. It began as an assignment in my Child Psychology course, back in
August of 2003. I'll tell you more after you read about An Early Memory...
An Early Memory
There I am, standing next to my older sister. I am three years old, she is almost seven. I feel little next to her. I feel the difference in our ages. Of course, I am younger and smaller as well. And I know it. I sense it. Anyway, there we are side-by-side in the dining room of our apartment in California. We’ve heard the phone ring, gleefully interrupting whatever it is we were doing. We’ve raced over to answer it, knowing the call would be for us. It is Tuesday evening at 7:00 PM and our birth father is making the weekly court-ordered phone call to us from New York City.
As usual, my sister speaks to him first. I alternately look up into her animated face and stare at the black rotary dial phone sitting on one of the two corner cupboards in the room. I stare at the phone, as if by doing so I may magically be able to see this distant father on the other end of the line. The hardwood floors feel gritty scraping against the soles of my shoes as I wiggle back and forth, back and forth. I am happily anticipating my turn. My breathing comes in short shallow flutters. I am waiting. It feels like a very long time to this very small girl. It feels like forever. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
Then, all at once, it is my turn! Hi Daddy! I proclaim loudly. I smell my sister’s warm breath in the just vacated receiver. I taste my own breath as I swallow some of my excitement. The phone feels heavy in my small hand. My birth father responds to my greeting in his barely recognizable voice. He shares a few more meaningless words. My wiggling slows and I try to think of something to say. I am only three. I don’t know what to say. After all there really isn’t anything to say to the man on the other end of the line. He moved out of my life when I was just ten months old and we’ve had practically no contact since. No contact to build a relationship. No contact until this briefly adhered to directive from the courts.
And just like that, my turn is over and I hang up the phone. I feel unfulfilled and sad. After all, I feel he’s not really my daddy. He is my sister’s daddy. I don’t even know him. As I frequently tell my mother, I don’t got no daddy. I am three years old.
This particular instructor was not particularly strong, or well prepared. The class was filled with young college and some High School students. I felt old. I felt out numbered in the work ethic department. Anyway, when our books had not come in, she assigned this paper. We were told to write about one of our earliest memories, as told through our 5 senses. My first response (in my head) was I don't remember that far back! Then, lo and behold, this popped out! The next week, some of those younger students scribbled on their notepads as the instructor walked around, checking off if you had completed the task. She did not read our writings. Nevertheless, it has been one of my favorite pieces of writing ever since. I was grateful for the assignment. Usually I let the writing stand on its own, leaving the background information out. But, this time I wanted to record that here.
Update: I returned to the doctor and he removed the last of the stitches.
Movin' through the storm
He was going to just remove the last knot, but when he snipped it ➙
the whole thing came right out!
I'm glad there is nothing left in my eye and I am hoping nothing 'grows back'
(as this condition can).
Let's all cross our fingers for good luck, okay?!!
It struck me...as he remarked in an astonished voice, that he couldn't believe that I could feel this minute knot...it occurred to me that:
I'm that patient he must talk about at dinner parties!
I've almost finished my first XX's.
I plan on making two sets.
I worked on some needed to get done paperwork.
And I am still posting and reading others' posts.
Still off FB.
Tomorrow I'll be at work.
May your storms move through quickly and
the aftermath be brilliant.
Photos by NAE ©2018