I Remember

Since my DotRez site is down I decided to go through all my old files to decide what to trash and what to keep. I cam across this composition originally written for a high school English class by one of our young tribal members, Ronald Torpey. I have to say it's still my absolute favorite.

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I remember the days of innocence, living on nothing but the thought of having fun. When getting hurt was only a part of the game I was playing and tears were only used to get something I wanted. When all that was good for me tasted so bad, and Superman was my career pathway. When the thought of a spanking was worse than any bogeyman, when my mom could heal any wound and fix any problem with a kiss.

I remember being too young for this and too small to do that, but trying anyway. When doing nothing was my job and getting dirty was a hobby. When girls were dirty and a dog's lick was a sign of friendship. When my duty was to question everything and raising Cain was a must. When candy was a food group and cartoons were an education source. When toys hurt more to break than bones and youth was my alibi.

I remember the years I've spent alone and the way I grew up. When my mother's job was to drink and my father's job was not being a father. When a beating from an adult figure close to me was unavoidable and hiding the hurt was the hardest thing to do. When alone was a natural feeling and having nothing was all I had. When having someone to watch my home games was a wish and waking up every morning was a goal.

I remember watching my mother waste away and getting pictures of my father in the mail. When love was rarely seen and alcohol was a relative. When Christmas was a day to see Santa, but I couldn't, and my birthday was just the day I was born, that's it. When a mother's touch left bruises and being ashamed was a part of my everyday life. When filling with rage was normal and crying was a pastime.

I remember when I said I'd never turn out that way and slowly realizing my choices. When living that way scared me to death and facing the truth was inevitable. When going to school was eight hours of freedom and spending time with my family involved alcohol. When achieving was never done and fending for myself was the only way to survive. When abuse came to be in all forms and time alone was a healing process.

I remember when emptiness was always there and a reliable parent was not. When growing up without a father made me a man and growing up hating my mother made me want to love her more. When running away sounded simple and being happy was a dream.

This is all that I remember, of course. How could I forget.