Since before my first breath, I suffered the effects of violence from within my mother’s womb. This wired my nervous system in very particular ways even before I endured my first direct bodily blow.
I don’t write much about many of the specific blows I experienced. Most the specifics are lost to my thinking memory, stored instead in muscle, bone, and implicit memory.
Because most the specifics are lost to my thinking memory, I can be triggered–catapulted back in time, so that I’m confused about whether I’m in relatively choice-filled 2020 or choiceless 1988–without knowing why. Without knowing what sent me back.
A few days ago, I noticed a hummingbird flitting around my backyard. I told my husband, who said she’s built a nest in her same old spot.
Same old spot? Somehow, I’d never once noticed what was, to Anthony, a predictable part of life at this house.
He pointed out the teacup-sized nest of twigs and feathers, nestled in a rosebush right at my eye level.
This morning, I saw the hummingbird darting all around the backyard. I wondered if there was life in her nest.
Sure enough, I soon saw tiny twin triangles of orange peeking over its top. Without getting too close, I snapped a shot or two on my phone.
Soon enough, the mom returned to her baby, perching protectively at nest’s edge. I snapped a couple shots of this, too–this time, from a greater distance so as to not send her flying too soon. Continue reading “young life”→
Today I rode a skateboard,
while remembering another one
I once barely got to ride.
When I was in middle school, my mom knew I was fascinated with skateboards. Since she was forever stuck with junker cars that lasted only a couple of months before croaking, she wanted me to have wheels that would last. She scrimped and saved for months before that Christmas to buy me a kick-ass board.
I was so proud of that board, I almost immediately showed it off to a schoolmate whose mom stopped by our house.
The schoolmate was so impressed, he immediately told his friends.
Within a couple of days, one of those friends broke into my home and stole the board.
I was crushed. I’d been building up confidence to really ride it, this rare and beauteous first-hand gift, and now wouldn’t even get that chance.