Before I can begin to write about the things i want to write about I feel I must first tell you a bit about myself. I have 3 older brother and one older sister.
My first memory is, as first memory's go, pretty bad. My Mom shot my Dad. She shot him in the shoulder with a handgun during a fight. Dad was hurt, but lucky for all concerned not fatally. Dad as normal for those early days was drunk. And when Dad was drunk he was a mean drunk.
For the record he was a mean sober as well.
My second memory is being shot myself. It was with a pellet gun. It was also point blank against my spine. I was in the Hospital off and on for well over 6 months. It should also be pointed that my brother shot me accidentally and never really forgave himself.
I was 3 and a half.
The day I got out of the hospital I ran my arm though a french door. My arm was sliced to the bone and I very nearly bled to death. Between the surgery on my arm and the surgery after I was shot i have well over two thousand stitches in me.
During this time my Dad continued to drink. He would get fired from many jobs and we would be forced to move. By the time I started school I had already lived in at least 6 houses. Once school started it seemed we moved once a year. I soon began to associate Labor Day weekend with a new house and a new town.
When I was in 2 grade we moved to a house outside of Cambridge. The house seemed haunted. Many odd things were to happen in that house. It was also during our 9 months stay in that home that my Mom would have a baby girl. My sister would die before she would ever take a breath. We buried her on my birthday.
By third grade I was in my 5th school. I stayed in Kewanee a whopping 2 and a half years. My Dad quite drinking and actually became an Alcohol and Drug counselor. And just as i began to relax and feel comfortable, we moved to Annawan.
In 6 grade I made yet another new set of friends. And just like always we left. And just like always I would leave my friends behind. I began to grow resigned to never staying anywhere for long.
And so in 7 grade I found myself in Atkinson. It would be my 7th new school. I began to feel very disconnected to the world around me. Nothing it seemed would be permanent. Any friends I would meet would last maybe a year. And then like everything else around me they would soon be gone.
The first couple of times we moved making friends was easy. But the more we moved the more effort it seemed to take. By the time I was in 7th grade I just didn't have the energy to do it.
I remember thinking as I looked out of the car window at my new house, "Nothing matters here. Soon we'll be gone and I'll just forget everyone I meet here."
I was wrong. Earlier I said I lived in a haunted house. But the ghost I see all come from this town.
posted by thannos @ 9:35 PM
