thoughtsfromachair:

Saturday Story (photo from Andrea) This is my first one.

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We were just leaving the lake house, I was ready to leave it, but I wasn’t ready to go home.   The lake house had always been a place of mixed emotions for me and this year was no different.  My parents began to fight earlier this year.  It carried on through the summer, to include the time we spent at the lake house.  I never understood what they fought about then, although looking back I think I could piece it all together.

It was about three hours after the car left the house the first time… My parents had to turn the car around to go back to the lake house. They had forgotten me there.  In the midst of their most current argument, which I had later learned was how they were going to pay the mortgage that month, they had forgotten about their only son.  I was late getting all of my clothes into my bag. I knew if I didn’t use the bathroom before we left that I would have to make them stop the car.  They hated to stop the car. 

While I was in the bathroom, I heard the arguing, so I closed my eyes and covered my ears.  When I was done, they were gone.  I looked around for the car to see if maybe they had just moved it around the corner. Nothing.  I wasn’t sure what to do.  So I sat on the step and waited.  I figured it would only be a few minutes before they realized they had left me, an honest mistake.  A few minutes turned into ten, then 20. 

A squirrel scrambled down the tree just adjacent to the driveway.  It sat there and looked at me.  Its dark black eyes pierced my soul and the silence became uncomfortable and would always continue to be so.  The summer was over and I was trespassing on his domain.  I wanted to shout at him. I couldn’t help it. I was stranded there. Eventually he turned and ran up a different tree and out of sight. 30 minutes had passed.

I walked down to the edge of the lake and sat on a branch that was lying on the beach.  I threw some stones into the still water and I watched the ripples get wider and wider.  Silence. One hour.

They weren’t coming back for me.  They were done with me, sick of me, and I was on my own now.  I cried.  At this point in my life I was very confused with who I was.  I doubted myself often and had self-confidence issues.  My father would always yell at me to be stronger, to practice my sports, to study harder. My mother wouldn’t talk to me too much at all.  She mostly just fussed with my sister’s hair and told her how beautiful she was.  It was a hard few years, and that day was the tipping point: it only got worse. Two hours. 

I heard a car in the distance.  Three hours. I looked back and saw that familiar wood panelled station wagon.  The dust cloud it kicked up behind it was tremendous.  It billowed up into a dark ominous cloud, a pyroclastic surge heading right for me.  The car made it to the driveway and skidded on the rocks as my father slammed on the brakes.  His face was bright red.  He marched over to where I was sitting and grabbed my arm.  Jerking me up he practically dislocated my shoulder.  He didn’t say anything as he dragged me to the hot box of emotion.  I knew he was angry though; he didn’t have to say it.  He wouldn’t let me go back and get my bag. It stayed there on the beach that day.  I never did see any of those clothes or toys again. The bag and all of its contents would lead to future arguments that I won’t get into now.

Tossed into the car, I crawled into the back seat with my sister and her friend.  Her friend, Jean, was such a bitch.  She cackled as I got in the car. It was hilarious to her and the entire way back to the lake house she laughed about it.  She knew I was forgotten, but said nothing, as of course it was too hilarious.  My sister didn’t say anything either… though I never blamed her for that. Rachel was afraid of my father and when he and my mother fought she got really quiet and wouldn’t talk for hours. 

My mother, after a heated argument or any uncomfortable situation, would act like nothing had happened.  She smiled and it was like a sunbeam shone out of every orifice. She turned around and leaned back to take our picture for the album. She told us to smile. Jean was still in hysterics, Rachel smiled out of fright, and I was numb.  A forgotten child, blamed for being forgotten about.  I started to shut out the rest of the world more and more from that day on. 

It wasn’t until now that I write about this, that point that led me here.  It sure is funny what you think about at a time like this…

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