Thursday, March 15, 2007
A journey back
One day, when I was about eight year's old, I came home from school to find my mother waiting for me and my sister. "We are going with your dad", she said, looking in my direction. "That is odd", I thought, "what about Gene?" I saw the look of dread come across my sister's face, and we both began asking questions at the same time. My mother shut both of us up with one look, (that's all in took in those days) and she sent us off to get our things packed. To fill you in reader, my mother had been divorced from my dad for several years, and for the first time in my life, at least, things were really good, she had remarried, a man that my sister and I both adored, and we were a real family. A real, HAPPY family. What the hell was she doing now? Gene, (my new stepdad and the love of my life at that time), was at work. He would be home in just a couple of hours. But we were gone by then. Gone with my REAL father, the man that created so much hate and ugliness in our lives, for so many years. Apparently, we were going to California. I cried, so did my sister. Alot. I just wanted to go home. But that was not to be. I found out years later, that my oldest sister confessed to my mother on that trip that my father had been "touching" her for quite some time. Even that did not stop the wheels from turning all the way to the west coast. Although, it did provide some tense moments, and crying on my mother's part, along with some tears from my sister, and some temper from my father. I had no clue what the hell was going on, but i knew i was watching my whole future go right down the drain. I loved my dad, but he made me feel bad, the situation between everyone made me feel bad, then----and at all times before. Theirs was never a happy marriage, our home had never been happy, just tense. So this new life that we were planning in California, made no sense. None. It still doesn't if you want to know the truth, I never did figure out what the hell was going on, but I digress. So we went to California. And ended up in San Fransisco. And rented a motel. And lived there for about six weeks. We didn't go to school. It wasn't thought about at the time, at least on my part, and wasn't mentioned to me at all. Then one day, my mom said that we were going back to Gene, and our old home, but I couldn't tell my Dad. I thought that was strange, but okay, good. The next day, we got on the train, my dad had taken us to the station. I was to act as though we would be right back, after we got all of our things packed up. My Dad kissed me goodbye, and said he loved me, and he cried. It upset me that he cried, he was a huge, larger than life, really mean looking man, with tears running down his face. I felt so bad that we made him cry, I wanted to hurt my mother for it. I will never, ever forget that sight. Ever. We went back home, and all things were once again, peachy. WTF? I guess I will never know, and I am aware that a child's perception of things is way, way off. But MANY things from that six weeks of my life will haunt me forever.