The Only Part of My Childhood I was Allowed to Have

I left my family home abruptly and could only take what my friends and I could carry.  At that point, I didn’t much care about all of the things that represented my childhood.

Over the years, my nieces inherited most of my childhood possessions, including  clothes — especially the ones that meant something to me, like my recital outfits and prom dresses.

A few years ago, my mother and sister gave me a box containing the few things I guess they couldn’t find any use for in their drive to buy my nieces’ love.

Earlier this month, I burned the bridge I had with those two women.  Oddly, I felt no remorse or guilt.  Why hadn’t I done it years earlier?  I don’t know.

Today, in doing my BIG TIME spring cleaning, I came upon that box.   What was inside made my decision solid.

It contained music from when I played, a diary, a couple of little notebooks, a diary,  a small Gideon New Testament bible, an empty bottle from Baylor’s 1980 Cotton Bowl, along with some things that clearly weren’t mine.  (Those two women have always had a habit of treating me like a Sand Dollar drop off.)

In one little notebook, my 11 year old self wrote about “daddy’s day” and needing to “rap” his present.   In the diary, my 12 year old self wrote about coming home late from a game because a friend’s mom was late, but that “mother wasn’t mad for too long.”

And that pretty much explains my life.  I loved my dad.  When he died, everyone fell apart, except for me, except for a while.  I stayed at the hospital and made the decisions.  I had always known that I was the least loved of us kids.  My dad was in Louisiana on duty in the Army when I was born, so he never really took to me, but I always loved and idolized him.

My mother has always been angry.  My sister has been angry for a long time, too.  Both of them have mostly been angry at me when they don’t have a better target.  Up until a few weeks ago, I had always tried to get them to love me.  Now I know it’s just not worth the effort.

Since I had that realization, I have been working on the house in order to make it easier to have people over.  With Dora wanting to kill Tammy, I have had to keep them separated.  The house arrangement has worked well for that, but it makes having company just about impossible.

I really want to get this done as soon as possible because my middle niece has asked several times over the years to come over.  I’ve always explained the pup situation to her, but now that just doesn’t work, and I can see how she hasn’t been able to understand it.

I will chronicle it as best I can here.  I really hope that I can invite her over when the garden is in it’s prime.

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