Growing Pains

Daddy made Mommy cry all the time.

Mommy sometimes tried to make it stop.

Then Daddy made Mommy cry more.

You learn once you’re older that people who love each other aren’t supposed to hurt each other.

You learn that when your father hits your mother, it’s abuse.

You learn that when your first girlfriend hits you, it isn’t love.

You learn that sorry doesn’t mean sorry.

You learn that gifts are blindfolds for bruises.

Things broke a lot around the house.

At first, Mommy cleaned up the glass.

Then Mommy walked over it with bare feet.

When my mother started to give up, it was noticeable.

She stopped trying to fight back.

She stopped answering phone calls, stopped lying to stave off questions.

She stopped trying to get out of bed or hide the bruises.

That only made him angrier.

When I started to think maybe I was a big kid, I tried to stop Daddy.

When Mommy started to seem like she might disappear, and I wanted her to get better, I hit him.

That’s when I found out Daddy didn’t love me either.

My Mom woke up a little bit after Dad started hitting me

She started to fight for me.

We left, but a part of Mom stayed behind.

It wasn’t the scared and broken part.

It was the happy part.

Mommy didn’t have Daddy anymore.

Mommy didn’t talk to Auntie or Gram or Miss Jenna anymore.

Mommy just smiled empty smiles.