Fast forward a few months to the birth of my sister. My mother had decided to have her at home. I woke up very early in the morning, probably about six, to my mom screaming in the other room. My brother was awake as well, he was almost four at the time. We both poke our heads out into the other room and are immediately ushered back into our rooms by a friend of my mom's who was there to help. My father was also there. We stayed in our room and I was scared. I was scared for my mom who was obviously hurt as she was screaming. I had no idea what was going on, no understanding of the situation. The next thing I knew, someone came in to tell us that our mom was being taken to the hospital in an ambulance. I freaked out and ran outside. They had my mother on a stretcher and were taking her down thestairs. I was crying, I was scared. She smiled at me and hugged me and told me everything was fine and that they (her and my new baby sister) would be back soon.
Flash forward six months. I am holding my sister and she is screaming and crying. I am trying to calm her down but she is thrashing about and crying. My mother and father standing ten feet away from me screaming at each other, I am trying to make them stop and trying to get my sister to stop crying. She grabs my shoulder and pops a blister I had there from a sunburn I had the week before.
Flash forward eight months, I am living in North Carolina with my father and my brother. My mother and sister are back on the coast of Texas. My mom said she just needed some time to get everything in order and then we could come back. My dad has told me several times how to turn the heat on when we get home, but I can't remember and I am scared that I will turn on the wrong thing and mess everything up and he will yell at me again. I go next door and ask for help. The neighbor comes over and turns the heat on. When my dad gets home he is mad, really mad. He slaps me across the face when I try and explain what happened. He tells me not to go over there any more because we aren't supposed to be home by ourselves.
Flash forward three months. I am riding my bike up the hill near my home. All the other kids ride up that hill so I can too. I am half way up when my bike starts to go backwards. I fall down and my arm gets stuck in the chain, it breaks. My brother runs over when I am crying and screaming. I tell him to go get mom but he won't. He won't leave me, he is scared to leave me there alone. I tell him to go, to please go, and he finally does. That ride to the hospital was probably one of the more painful things I experienced as a child.
continued...
Labels: History Lesson
