An emblem falls from my pocket and I hesitate, unable to catch it as it falls. I watch the purple hued knob roll back and forth on the tiles of the girls bathroom. Time after time I've been here. 16 years old and another day at school has ended.
What is it to 'go home?'
As a poet my mind drifts away and I start to imagine myself running on to a yard where my sweetheart is and children run from a warm house to embrace me.
"On a winter day my honey warms my children's hearts while I'm away... I sing lullabies softly into their ears as the day turns to night. Sweet, sweet lullabies. That grip their souls as to keep them sleeping deeply through the night.."
My mind filters through words and creates sentences running off on to many papers falling...falling slowly to the ground.
Reality sets back in as a cold drift moves through the air. Someone is coming. I reach down and grip the small object and egress through old doors.
There is a bite to the air that hardens my lips as I exit the school. Ah, winter, we meet again. I place my hands in my pockets as my feet press forward. The earth is beautiful all around me. I catch myself smiling at the littlest things. I see children playing in the elementary school field right next to my school. I look down and see leafs left to be squished of all their colorful juices on the sidewalk below me.
Anything to keep my mind off home.
It is about a six block walk back to my house. The route leads me uphill in the wind. In a small rural place like this it is about a 10 minute walk. I fiddle with the small little knob in my pocket. I've had it for years. Once on a necklace, it is now just an object I carry around for fun. I entirely believe that its significance is yet to be determined. I knew though that it would be there when something great happened... yeah something great.
As I approach my street I start to feel sick.
Please don't let anyone be home.
I open the front door and a familiar face stands in the entrance. My mother looks indifferent as she kneels over to clean up a mess that someone has left. The floor is spotless besides a few dirty water droplets and a pair of wet shoes. Typical.
"Hi." I say, but in the air my voice evaporates. I drift up to my room and close the door. Dad will be home soon. Hopefully we can all enjoy tonight.
I close my eyes and try to send good energy through the house. I had developed this habit when I was young. It was appropriate to wish for a good night if tension lingered in the air for too long.
After several minutes of wishing, I pry my brain away from that focus and scope out my room. Everything is in place. No visible electronics besides my phone. No homework. Nothing really to do. I hear my mother yelling at my brothers as they run around the house playing games. A day in the life.
I pull out a book I've been trying to read for quite some time. I start to read a chapter of it and soon I am drifting to sleep.
Screaming is the next thing I hear.
My eyes spring open as my pupils try to adjust. It is dark in my room and all that's visible is seen by a light that shines through the crack under my door. Walking out into the hallway I tread lightly on the carpet and stop at the staircase. More screaming from the bottom floor proceeds and my heart begins to pick up pace. My hands become clammy as fear shoots through my body like a gun pulled right on my chest.
It's nothing new that my parents are at each others throats. The situation has been the same for years, but the feeling it gives me never settles right. You don't get use to this type of war. As a child you just have to know how to stay out of the way.
I hear something break and I know my mom is the culprit but that she will blame by father entirely. In these moments I tend to go to a cold place in my mind; a protective mode. This is where you don't feel, you don't think, you just do. I spring down the stairs and scoop up two quiet children who sit against the wall. My brothers. They are looking at toys that five minutes ago they were laughing and playing with. Now they only seemed interested in inspecting them. Their silence feels like death and I try not to empathize with their fear. My brothers' large brown and hazel eyes search mine with a sadness that no one should ever feel. They grip my arms for protection. I smile and kiss them as my heart weeps. We enter their room and I lock the door. I instantly clap my hands and slap my legs. Feeling my emblem slid around in my pocket I pull it out and start to tell them about it.
See this? This is special. This is my special emblem and I'm giving it to you guys to share. You can look at it and toss it in your hands. You can wear it around you neck and make wishes on it. Isn't it cool?
Creating noise is the best idea I can come up with. I talk loudly about anything and everything they are interested in. We talk about preschool and dinosaurs. But there is no hiding in a house full of torment. The screaming gets louder and soon the parents are upstairs opening and slamming doors several times. Dad is crying, mom is screaming. Dad is yelling, mom is hitting. The madness persists. Mom tries to open the door and my heart jumps. I open it and she storms in like the darkest cloud in a mid-day sky. Her eyes drenched in tears, as she fills my brothers minds with an idea to diminishing the image of my father as a man. Telling them things that make them question our only honorable and hard working father. I walk out of the room, helpless. Knowing if I say anything I too will get the wrath. Downstairs my father is out in the garage weeping blindly into his hands. Silently mouthing 'why' repeatedly.
But I know why. So does he.
I run to my room so my carpet can catch me and all my tears. I shut my door and reach up to lock it. The storm has passed but for how long? The feeling of torment never subsides within me. I wonder how my heart keeps pumping after years of pain. I reach up and grab my bible and place it lightly on my chest.
Dear God, please spare me and my family from this pain. Father, please help me. Please help my family.
I plead with God as my faith in his protection continues to shed light on my heart. It calms the whimpering and I continue to repeat my prayer. My breathing calms and my closed swollen eyes begin to soften their grip. My body relaxes.
Please, Father, please. Stop this war within this house. Stop the war..
Soon my bodies lays limp and my hands slide off of my chest. They skim the pages of the open book.
"..On a winter day my honey warms my children's hearts while I'm away... I sing lullabies softly into their ears as the day turns to night. Sweet, sweet lullabies. That grip their souls as to keep them sleeping deeply through the night.."
Peace is around me. The house is quiet and dark.
I am asleep for now. I am asleep.
1/9/2013
~ B
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