One of the worst days of my life was the day I watched, as my sister wrapped her hands around my mother's throat, trying to choke her to death. To my great dismay and sadness, this was only one, of many times, I would be a lonely watcher to scenes such as this, and more.
These scenes of extreme fright and anxiety,wreaked havoc with my mental health.
There are so many things that have been completely blocked from my memory. I remember my first day of school. I was four and was wearing a red dress with a white peter pan collar. I had a friend who lived next door. He and I were inseparable. He wasn't able to go to school as he was still to young. I was starting school at four years old, because that year the cut off date for registration was a few days after my birthday,which was the end of December.
I don't remember at that time, any particular fears of leaving my house,or my mother. As well, I can't remember anything about my sister.
Soon enough,however I remember being frightened whenever I would have to leave the house, and especially ,my mom. It was an uncomfortable feeling I would have in my chest and stomach. Many times I became nauseous for no reason. I didn't understand, because I wasn't sick, didn't have a fever. Just this tingling, uncomfortableness. What I wouldn't have done to take that feeling away.
At times I would remember, as this inevitably would happen time and again,sister got extremely angry and would go into the bathroom located across from my bedroom, and slam the door as hard as she could. And then of course the constant slamming loosened the door jam. Then she would be locked inside the bath. As her frustration grew, so did her anger, until I thought many times, she would break the door down. For some reason I remember my dad being there to always be able to get the lock open with a butter knife. Maybe that was because he didn't always have a steady job. Maybe this was a good thing, but ,it was also a bad thing.
In the years of the early 1950's my parents moved from a small town which bordered New York, and New Jersey. In 1951,when I was born, I remember our family going out to where mom and dad had bought and were building a house for themselves as well as sister and I. Before this, we all lived in a big house in valley spring. All of us, extended family, grandma, grandpa, aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, lived under the same roof. Sister was not a great source of comfort for them either.
We, sister, myself, mom and dad, would visit our home as it rose from the lush soil of Long Island, which before the housing boom, after the war, was awash with farm after farm of potato fields. The soil did produce beautiful plants, that, though, was later on.
Everyone seemed to think it was the greatest thing in the world. Move from Brooklyn, or Queens, and get a house in the suburbs, the country. "it's cooler there." was the required statement. I don't know that it was required, but everyone said it, so, it must have been true, right? And everyone thought "this will be wonderful for sister and Debra, as well." Everyone also said that, so that must also turn out to be true, right? On this particular question I can affirm that everyone was wrong.
At this time, there was an entire neighborhood growing up. I, since that first day, have loved the smell of raw lumber. Or maybe, I loved that smell as I spent so much time with dad at lumber yards. He was always building something. A fence, a patio, a bird house, something. And I did so love the times we shared together, and always would. As I would with my mom, going to the grocery store, or the small clothing store ,'Wolffs'. Every where we went, after a purchase, mom would have a receipt with bunches of green S & H stamps in the palm of her hand.
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to be continued
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