It's not that I don't like being at home as much as I don't like the feeling I get when I'm here. Here, I remember all the things that have happened my whole life. When I walk into the shed-turned-room my dad boards in, I flinch. I can still feel it in my stomach - it's as if I'm curled up against the wall again. I'm not even fighting the kicking, just hoping he doesn't leave marks I'll have to explain. When I look at one end of the room, I remember my mom sprawled across the bed we shared - buck naked and drunk. With a bitter heart, a mixed thought of wishing my mother to finally be gone.
Heading back outside, walking over the dirt, I remember stepping on stones in my bare feet. I remember losing all of my toys in the mud and dirt. Happy memories flood my mind when I look over the scanty grass and dirt yard. A smile comes on my face as I remember the tire swing and the jungle gym my cousin, sister, and I had made into a fort. But, the jungle gym was scrapped for recycling a long time ago and at least half of the tree has been chopped up and used for firewood. I looked to the fence that was just behind me and remembered when it had been rebuilt. The neighbor's pug had escaped into our yard and viciously attacked my six week old pit bull puppy. The puppy's head was torn from its tiny body. There was blood everywhere. I remember crying as my grandfather scooped up the dead dog and trashed it. The new fence had cement around it.
With a grimace, I continue to the front yard and around the front of the house. I remember when there were cacti and watermelons growing from the small garden below my aunt's window. My grandfather would dry out the cactus and put a little sugar on them before boiling them. They were a staple snack of her childhood. But, it was all gone.
Though the types of cars had changed, the same people had the same spots in the driveway. My three aunts had the driveway and my father parked on the front lawn. Well, it could hardly be called a lawn. My grandfather parked on the curb, his big white truck seeming ominous.
Finally, I crossed in front of the garage and went through a gate to get into my room. A room that had once been a garage was my small space now. It had a bathroom that didn't run hot water all the time. The carpet had signs of molding. Bugs ran rampant through it. They ran rampant through the whole house. Cockroaches. It was comparable to a third world country at this place called "home". The times I had woken up to a mouse or a roach or a rat somewhere on me or on my food or my dishes or in my clothes...it was enough to make anyone squeemish.
Heading back outside, walking over the dirt, I remember stepping on stones in my bare feet. I remember losing all of my toys in the mud and dirt. Happy memories flood my mind when I look over the scanty grass and dirt yard. A smile comes on my face as I remember the tire swing and the jungle gym my cousin, sister, and I had made into a fort. But, the jungle gym was scrapped for recycling a long time ago and at least half of the tree has been chopped up and used for firewood. I looked to the fence that was just behind me and remembered when it had been rebuilt. The neighbor's pug had escaped into our yard and viciously attacked my six week old pit bull puppy. The puppy's head was torn from its tiny body. There was blood everywhere. I remember crying as my grandfather scooped up the dead dog and trashed it. The new fence had cement around it.
With a grimace, I continue to the front yard and around the front of the house. I remember when there were cacti and watermelons growing from the small garden below my aunt's window. My grandfather would dry out the cactus and put a little sugar on them before boiling them. They were a staple snack of her childhood. But, it was all gone.
Though the types of cars had changed, the same people had the same spots in the driveway. My three aunts had the driveway and my father parked on the front lawn. Well, it could hardly be called a lawn. My grandfather parked on the curb, his big white truck seeming ominous.
Finally, I crossed in front of the garage and went through a gate to get into my room. A room that had once been a garage was my small space now. It had a bathroom that didn't run hot water all the time. The carpet had signs of molding. Bugs ran rampant through it. They ran rampant through the whole house. Cockroaches. It was comparable to a third world country at this place called "home". The times I had woken up to a mouse or a roach or a rat somewhere on me or on my food or my dishes or in my clothes...it was enough to make anyone squeemish.
