Beyond the Skin II

My parents never tucked me in at night.

I always dreamed of the “ideal family” when growing up. I would always imagine living in the average house with a white picket fence. Weekend family time like going to the park and playing on the swing set with mom and dad. At times I wanted to have a big sister to show off. Then I would have wanted to have one around to give her all the responsibility that was handed to me. At one point of my life, it was like that. Not as ideally as I thought it would be but just that happy medium.

My father was known at the church like the man of prayer. He prayed restlessly, with such faith. I was around six or seven when this chapter of my life existed. On a regular week day my father would get home and my mom would have dinner ready for him. As soon as he would get home, the family would get together for dinner and gather up and pray for the meal. We would all hold hands around the table and give thanks to God for the blessings He had provided. For me this is one of the most memorable moments I have cherished the most. Unfortunately it soon faded. Our family time didn’t exist. Then soon my parents would eventually hit a regular routine, which was to have an argument and separate for a while. This became so constant that I would miss school often and for long periods of time.

At a young age I was given responsibility. Look after little brother and little sister, even when mom and dad where in the same room. Eventually when both parents would work, I was the full time child sitter. I was only nine years old. Having to deal with a seven and four year old was a hard task. I remember one time trying to cook food for my brother and sister. The kitchen was burning up. Thank God a brother from church came to the house and kept me from burning the house into ashes. Things like that were what I dealt with. Mom would later come home and blame me for not having the house clean or the kids in order.

Around that age I decided that living was not worth all of this. I remember having a friend of my mom’s living with us. She would sleep in my room and I would think that everything I would tell her remained in total confidentially. I was wrong. When I told her that I wanted to die, she told my mother the day after. That’s when my mom got me in trouble for saying such a stupid thing. Just for me at that age, I felt completely overloaded with too much responsibility, too much pressure from my mother.

Something kept me living… though at that time I didn’t know what it was.