A Work in Progress

This old gal’s…

Childhood home…was recently up for sale…again…

The little white house…a rectangle on a slab…split into five rooms…built by that grandfather of mine…in the 1960s…for his daughter…a divorced mother of three…none older than 5…

That house…three towheads…playing whiffle ball…wading in the creek…building a couch fort…it might be fun…to see inside…maybe even purchase it…connect with it again…

But that house…has skeletons…hiding in its nonexistent closets…three littles…huddled together…near the white wicker hamper…watching in horror…the rage…the wailing…the thrashing…the head banging…

Who’s turn was it…to try to “escape”…and run next door to Grandma…for help…the little cotton nightie…flying backwards…the bare little feet running fast…as if the devil himself…was right behind…because…she might have been...call it what you will…Manic…Borderline…Mental Illness…we called them…fits…unpredictable…frequent… walking on egg shells…always waiting…

Grown up me…looking at school photos…with the family…why…I laugh…do I look so horrible in this one….YOU had a bad day that day….she said…and that little memory…blocked for 25 years…was suddenly free…

Trying to be fancy for picture day…the pony tail not working…the wrench of hair…the scream…the rage…scared…sobbing…running 6 blocks to school...little brother running…in solidarity…beside his sister…

We all have a Pandora’s box…full of stuff…stuff that hurts…stuff we keep a lid on…stuff that makes us who we are…

A kind and caring mom…a compassionate teacher who sees beyond the puffy eyes…an empathetic partner…who truly cares…

And one old gal that embraces the knowledge...that it’s ok…to be a work in progress…
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And this husband of mine…agrees…