My parents met in the United States Air Force and married each other shortly after. My arrival mere months later further exemplified the rushed timeline that was my parents’ relationship. I say these things to explain why the union of two completely incompatible people was short-lived. My brother joined me in this world about a year and a half later. He and I lived relatively “normal” lives for a few years. My parents left the military to lead civilian lives in Mississippi further from my mom’s family and into the literal back yard of my dad’s. This was the first of many mistakes made in their rocky marriage. No woman wants to live under the scrutiny of her mother-in-law while her husband is away for weeks to months at a time for work. Dad was a crane operator for an offshore drilling company and mom stayed at home.
Day to day life was as normal as it could be for a few years. Dad was home for two weeks and gone for two while he worked offshore. One day my parents found a source of income that could change everything by eradicating debts and bringing financial comfort. My dad loved being a firefighter and was presented with the opportunity to follow this dream job all the way to Bagram, Afghanistan. He would spend months there with visits to home that would last a little over a week after travel was deducted. Memories of this time in my life are vague and splotchy like the bits of a dream to which our minds allow us to cling. I vividly remember the vacations we were able to take with the help of Dad’s new job from finally being tall enough to ride the Batman ride at Six Flags in New Orleans to getting my hair braided at the resort in Cancun, Mexico. I can also clearly remember the video camera my mom set on a tripod to record Christmas morning for my dad. My brother’s reactions were as dramatically emphasized as mine as we opened our gifts to show our dad who was thousands of miles from home.
My mom was ever present and involved in our lives at home and at school. She helped me create all of the best school projects including my shadow box decorated with a scene from Charlotte’s Web for the reading fair and a trifold poster board with oceanic scenes for science class. We discovered the amount of Vitamin C in various drinks using an iodine dropper together for another science project. The Summer Reading Program at the library was a favorite of mine. I made my way through countless books in the quest for the top prize while my brother labored through his picture books with the assistance of my patient mom. I may have skimmed some of the books, but it was already made apparent that I was an avid reader who needed no real practice in that area. My mom was a warm presence with an obnoxiously loud laugh/snort combo that had always dazzled me. I couldn’t wait to be my mom when I grew up. I’ve always had dreams of being a mother myself. The hours spend French braiding and curling her hair as she played her computer games were precious moments I relive in my mind when I want to remember the “good” times.
The changes in our lives were so subtle that I can’t seem to remember where exactly things went wrong. I can recall flashing blue lights outside our door one day following violent outbursts between my parents and flung pill bottles. Arguments and raised voices became more and more frequent when my dad was home. I can remember my mom liked to play The Sims Online. She would have me play for her some days while she watched Oprah or some Princess Dianna story. She joined chat rooms and made online friends. We would visit some of my dad’s family that lived a short walk on a trail through the woods from our house. She and my aunt would spend hours gossiping and chatting online with their “friends.”
Eventually, my mom grew tired of this pretend world she lived in under the omnipresent scrutiny of my Nanna. She ventured forth into the new and exciting world of adultery. This time in my life is one that my mind chooses to fog over and push away. I can grasp the thread of a memory if I put all of my efforts into it, but the whole memory unravels as quickly as the picture forms in my mind.
An image of an empty pool gradually surfaces as I recall a stay at a motel one night. My brother and I were so excited to have our own room so we could jump from bed to bed. My mom had her own room next door so she could have privacy. Of course my brother and I decided it would be quite the adventure to visit the ghostly pool at night. We left the sounds of cartoon characters and musical notes behind us as we made our way to the pool in front of our motel room door. We realized our mistake too late as the excitement of the adventure wore off and we were faced with a locked door. Our furious pounding and screaming did nothing to bring our mother from her room to rescue us. Wearied and a bit frightened we huddled outside of the doorway to our room and tried to listen to the Cartoon Network Teen Titans show we had left blaring through the television’s speakers. After some time a shadowy figure emerged from the darkened doorway to my mom’s room. My mind refuses to allow me a glimpse at his face. I only know his darkened form made a hasty exit before my mom finally appeared. I suppose we all eventually made our ways to our individual beds. The rest of this memory evades me. I can only remember that this was one of many such events that occurred as my mom took turns down darker paths than should be followed by children.
I think I’ll stop for now. There is much more, but I would hate to bore you all in one post. Could this be a book idea? If I could focus for long enough and stay organized, I could potentially be sitting on gold. I apologize in advance, but future events can be triggering and difficult to read. I am only describing real and true situations from my point of view. Stay tuned for either a continuation of events or some random thought of mine.
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