The People Behind My Eyes

There is a stark difference between then and now, like the difference between night and day, love and hate, war and peace. I walked out of my mothers home alone on February 2nd, 1992 at 10:30PM. I walked out with no support and no definite plan of where I was going. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even know that I was leaving on that night. I knew I had to go but I never dreamed it would unfold in the way it did. There were so many things that had to go right that night in order for me to leave safely. There were so many things that could have gone wrong that didn’t.

This is the woman that beat her children’s lips with a wide tooth comb, and the woman that controlled their every move every moment of the day. She had so much control over us and we feared her intensely. My sister and I knew the consequences of her anger all too well. We knew what it felt like to be so close to death we could reach out and grab it. She could have killed me back in ’92. She could have killed me but she didn’t.

That night, for some reason, this 5 foot 11 woman of 250 pounds didn’t swing once. Perhaps I caught her in a good-enough mood that she wasn’t really looking for a fight. That was one of the first things that had to go right, she couldn’t be in an- I will kill you kinda mood. At that time she didn’t have the look of insanity in her eyes, the look that I knew never to challenge. Maybe it was because it wasn’t 3am yet. When 3am rolled around that woman lost it. She became more violent than ever. I don’t know why she lost it around 3am but she did. One of the many things that had to go right that night was that if there was to be any safety at all it would have to be before 3am. The night I left it wasn’t cold. There was no snow on the ground. It wasn’t raining. I was employed. I had a decent amount of quality friends. I had money, but still I left that house only by the grace of God. So much had to go right for me to walk out of that house alive, physically alive I mean. Anyone that beats the palms of a three year old child’s hands with a dowel rod isn’t someone you want to cross. Anyone that rams needles in the mouth of her child isn’t playing. They are capable of killing you. But that night it all came together, like clock work it came together and I walked out of her house in one piece.

At home, sleeping was as dangerous as daylight hours when you forced your eyes open to watch her every move. You never knew when one of those dowel rods was going to come down on you. You never knew when you’d wake to find her standing over your bed just watching you. She may turn and walk away or maybe not. It just depended on the game she was playing that night. She’d taunt us, “Do you think you’re sleeping tonight?”

At home, eating was awarded when you did degrading things or when you did nothing at all. It just depended upon the mood she was in. At home, conversation was light or intense but the air was always tense and heavy. I watched her every move. I hung on her every word so that I could second guess her and avoid getting hit or worse. I was constantly thinking of how to get out of the next torrent of fists. I talked her down many times but not enough to show for my efforts.

When I say so much had to go right that night for me to walk out of that house alive I mean it. I do not exaggerate when I say she could have killed me but by the grace of God I walked out alive. Today, in my home she may still haunt my dreams but she will never, ever stand in the doorway of my bedroom or even enter my home. She may haunt my dreams but in reality, I choose weather or not I’ll sleep. This is my home and eating has nothing to do with breaking my back or degrading acts to appease her and win a meal. And the only person I need to talk down is me.

I use to wonder why it took so long for me to leave and stay gone. I concluded that the day I left was the day I was supposed to leave. That was the day I had the strength to leave and stay gone for good. Had I left in 1991 I may not have built up enough strength to stay gone. I might have had to go back. Yes, living there was impossible but going back is unspeakable. I might have gone back had I left before the day I was supposed to leave. Had I tried to leave home with depleted strength I might not have left that house alive. I do not believe that fate played a part in that day. I fully credit God for the help I had to make it out of there alive. There is no other possible way that so many things could have gone right in order for me to leave alive and stay gone. On the 2nd of February in 1992 at 10:30 PM the clock came together, ticked on time and I know I will never go back.

It rained here today and it was cold and windy. Mic had to work as usual. I went to the food pantry to deal with the Food Pantry Nazi. My finger is swollen from being smashed yesterday, fortunately the pain has ceased. Did any of this ruin my day? Oh no, not a chance. Not a chance in hell did it ruin my day. I listened to music, drank coffee and did plenty of smiling, inside and out.

Tonight, at 10:30PM I stood outside in the night but I wasn’t alone. I was in Mic’s arms, locked in a passionate kiss and covered in soft rain drops. It was an awesome, unplanned moment that I will never forget. I’ll have to write it down and put it in my Good Memories Jar. If there was every a time when things were completely different it was tonight. If ever times were as far apart as night and day, as divided as war and peace or at odds like love and hate it was tonight on the anniversary of My Independence Day.

Until again,
Morton’s Pride

When The Clock Strikes Precisely
February 2nd, 2006
Thursday
3:02 AM