Hearing from you made me very happy; I am excited you are thinking of me again and I’m so glad you wrote me. While reading your letter I kept thinking, “I can’t believe she remembers all of this from such a long time ago.”
But there’s a huge difference between how I feel as a child and how you tell the story. I wanted to scream while reading your letter. I wondered why you didn’t mention the times when I worried and feared being abandoned. Why did you make coloring sound so fun and exciting, knowing full well with each stroke of the crayon I wondered if this would be my last encounter with mom for a while? I mean sure, it wasn’t always that way but my feelings of loneliness, uncertainty, and sadness outlasted all of the happy times combined.
Did you forget?
I am happy you went to counseling and found God but if we want to truly heal, we must tell the truth and if you won’t, I will. Now, let me look at your letter again to see where you left off. Oh, here we are, living in the South End. Now, I must admit that we did have some good times there in the beginning – especially during the summer. My biggest worry then was how my hair looked after going swimming at the neighborhood pool. I wished I had “good hair” like my best friend but instead my hair was nappy and thick, which sucks because pressing day wasn’t until Friday. And don’t get me started on pressing day. Sitting in the kitchen with one eye closed and my right shoulder raised, hoping the Blue Magic grease and hot comb stays a few inches away from my scalp. Pressing day was stressful and marked the end of my fun weekend because grandma wanted the hair on my neck to still be straight for Sunday school.
Our new house is on a Summit Avenue. Do you remember this house? Come; let’s walk to the street. If you look to your right you will see my school, McHenry Elementary. I hate it there but mom says I can’t go back to Lucas so I may as well get use to it. I thought it would be cool having my school right across the street; especially when its cold out but there is nothing cool about this neighborhood or this school. There isn’t one girl that I can call a friend here and I think I know why.
But we can talk about that later-lets go back inside the house. Make sure you’re really quiet; mom has friends over and I can’t disturb them. We can go in my bedroom and watch all of the action through my secret window in the door right by the knob. Mom and her friends don’t always like each other but today things seem to be going okay. Look at them; they seem to be having so much fun. I wonder what they talking about that’s so exciting? They even get to share a strange looking glass bottle. It’s kind of hard to see through this hole, but it looks like they are using that same smoking toy as Donald Duck except his is made of wood. Are you watching?
Wait a second, that’s weird, everyone appears to be falling asleep after taking a smoke? I see people smoking outside all the time and they never get sleepy but whatever. I see all of mom’s friends using it but I bet she won’t. Mom told me that smoking was bad and that we should never do it.
Anyway, I’m done watching them, back to us. You said in your letter that we are back together again. That’s good, but if that’s the case I want to tell our story together from now on. I have a lot to say, but no one to say it to. So, can I? Can I tell it with you?
That’s fine with me, young Niccoll. That’s fine with me.