Five

Note: I'm writing to write tonight. In order to get something - anything - on the page, exercise and editing are not part of the equation.

Walking to school in the morning provided ample opportunity to explore the beauty of the world. Those four long blocks with the creek and front yard flower gardens offered polliwogs and frogs, ladybugs, daisies and roses. Few children walked along the same route in the morning and those that did were much faster than I was so the early mornings were quiet times filled with self guided discovery and much needed solitude.

She found a husband and home for us. No more little apartment, late nights slinging drinks, or limited capacity to manage the toddler pushing her beyond her one-person limits. Her new life meant that she didn't have to work in a bar or restaurant any more or call on others to meet my needs, and she could focus on being a stay-at-home-mom.

But her new family was born of rape, grown in violence, and nurtured by divisiveness.

She must have conceived on or near her birthday. The pregnancy was not likely a happy time as it was forced upon her in the ugliest of ways. Who says that a marriage license cancels out rape?

The new baby arrived nine months later - two days after my 5th birthday and about a week after we moved to our new house - and after considerable time and effort had been spent ensuring that we knew our respective places. He was in charge and she was his pawn. I was lucky to be there and was not part of the family.

I was as invisible as any precocious and inquisitive 5 year old could be; I spent my time playing in the creek, wandering the neighborhood, talking to anyone that would listen, trying to be as invisible as possible at home.

The family next door was large and welcoming and they had a pool. There were three girls, two not quite teenagers, one almost grown and ready to move out, all welcoming. Their teenage brother lived in their backyard pool-house. Away from his sisters.

One day, when the girls weren't around and I had no one to play with, he kept me busy for a while. I don't remember all of the specifics of that day in the pool and pool-house. Or why everyone became suddenly angry with one another. Or why not long after that day a very large fence went up between our houses and I was no longer allowed to 'go play at the neighbors house' as I had been before.

Kindergarten an oasis away from home. The white hair, powdered complexion, ruby red lips and sweet perfume of Mrs. Forward was absolutely gorgeous. Her clothing was bright and bold, sparkly and consistent with each and every holiday for days before and afterward. She hugged and kissed each and every one of us, to tell us that we were smart, special, and wonderful. She challenged our curiosity and urged us to do good.

I always liked school. Swimming ain't really my thing. Sometimes I wonder why I'd rather be alone than with other people.

This is the real work. And (excuse my language) fuck if it isn't amazingly difficult to write it. There are so many thoughts rushing through my head and feelings coming to the surface as I wrote this that it's been hard to focus. It feels choppy and as a result I feel like a 5 year old! I'm angry and taking it out on my husband in the context of having looked at an elementary school for our 5 year old today. He's too young and I want to try to protect him from the real world. I'd love comments on the way that the information is conveyed. Prompts on what to write about next, alternate voice considerations, perhaps an idea for a completely fictional subject?!. Some other work I can do to better prepare myself? Thank you. Be Well, Wonelle