Eye On Life Magazine

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I Remember

I Remember the Morning I realized I was not a priority

that my mother had other obligations.

Standing in our kitchen of green cabinets and yellow wallpaper

confined in school clothes and socks

cold cereal sloshing around in my belly.

The worn cast iron skillet sitting empty atop the stove.

I Remember the Afternoon I realized shame

that feeling of humility and longing.

Staring down at the cracked asphalt near the school building.

Not picked to play kickball with the boys

not welcomed with open arms and glee to cheer with the girls.

Left leaning against the metal bearings of the swing set.

I Remember the Evening I realized I was not treasured

that he was not on his way.

Gripping the phone in anticipation of his excuse

teeth tearing my nails to the quick

as her voice came through the receiver

bubbling over with giggles and cruelty.

She had been a friend.

I Remember the Night I grew up

drinking down the bitterness of the past

pushing away childish wishes of white horses, pumpkin carriages, and ugly ducklings.

Cutting off my wounded limbs

and concealing myself inside a crypt of self preservation.

I remember I barricaded the entrance well.

No one can enter. No one can touch me.

Not even me.

 

 Deanna M. Jessup