Off the Farm
Not too long after i turned 2, my daddy attempted to mend his ways and took a construction job. His intention was to take care of my mamma and I like we deserved. The reality is a whole different story. We moved in to a little frame house on a hill out in the country. My mother no longer had to work like a farm hand every day so we spent a lot of time underneath the dogwood tree out back traveling the world and having adventures together in literature. We picked buttercups in the early spring and made beautiful bouquets of flowers for our house. We went in to the woods in search of fairies and elves. We took picnics down to the river and would spend our afternoons swimming and building clay castles on the river bank. Just before the sun started to go down we would rush home. Usually daddy would not come home but one of my first memories is the night he actually did come home.
Daddy Came Home
I do not know what time it was but I do know it was dark outside. I was about 4 years old and I was asleep when I heard the most awful screams coming from the living room. It wasn’t the first time I heard my folks fight but it was the first time I heard my daddy scream like a girl as a result. i peeked around the door of my room and tip toed across the hardwood floor, being careful not to step on the creaky boards. I stood with my back to the wall in the hallway. I could hear them. My daddy was laughing and telling my mamma that he was leaving her because she didn’t have anything he wanted and that he had a new woman and she knew how to take care of a man. Again, my daddy let out a blood curdling scream. I had to look. I scatted across the opening of the door and hid on the other side. I could see from that angle that my mamma was sitting on his chest and his head was on the brick hearth. Even at 4, I knew he was drunk. Every time he would say something ugly to my mamma she would slam his head against the bricks. His head was dripping blood on the floor. I guess he was too drunk to fight back.