As I try and focus on my memories and the reason I feel its time. I am wondering these days about if I had been loved as a child, I would not have to just read about actions of love. I have had feelings for people only to lose them. But these feelings, were they love feelings?
Okay with that in mind, I want to share the one and only moment I can remember a bit of affection from my mother. I am just going to take you to where I was. It was night time. I was in bed for the night, laying on my back. Covered over and feeling like I am watching my surroundings. My mother enters my bedroom, all dressed up and what took my eye was her bright red lipstick. My mother was going out. She came to bring my a cheese slice. And it is the only time I remember getting a goodnight kiss from her. I have carried that moment with me all of my life. Always questioning, am I lovable?
I just laid there and must of fell asleep. I have no memory of my next day.
I recall having a bit different relationship with my father. We share a common food. Since he worked in the same yard as our house was. He would come in for lunch daily. I remember a few times sitting in my chair sharing some green tomatoes with my father. No words were spoken. But he would always watch the flintstones. Of course, I would watch them too. But what I find unusual was I would like to just look at my father’s face. Not sure why. But I can sit her and see his face while he watched the show on the television. Still to this day, I do like to see my father’s looks.
I can’t describe how I feel thru a lot of these memories, but some I can feel like I am right there all over again. It sure has been carried thru to my life and friendships.
I have to take you back for a moment at the Bridgetown house. It was a moment that I will never understand. Since we are on the topic of love. There was this one time, my brother and I was outside running around. Out back of the house, there were high wild rose bushes. I just so happened to run thru the wrong way. The whole side of my face was cut from on side to the other. Boy did that sting. So I went into the house, ran into the bathroom to see my face. I ran up to my room, I did not understand the fear I had. But sure enough, my father was hollering to me.I was scared to death. If anyone can help me understand why you get a slap in the face from your parent, when you just hurt yourself? Why was I being slapped and why was my father so angry at me for getting hurt? I will never know what was going thru his mind when he saw all the blood. Was he scared and reacted the only way he knew how?
I am going to end this blog here. I am also going to try and do more entries a week. I did not know once I started this blog journey, just how painful it would be. But I will heal as I find peace. Thank you for the support.
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