Everytime I’m asked to remember something deeply personal, I think of the night before my father left. That was before he came creeping in at night. I couldn’t have been more than 6 years old.
My bed was a twin sized mattress on the floor of my parents bedroom. I was terrified of the dark and still they made me sleep on the floor. Unlike most nights where I would have been fast asleep, I was awake. Mom’s yelling woke me up.
I don’t remember my father’s voice so much now.
I got…
Posted August 10, 2009 at 2:48pm
