Where I once saw the matter grey and unbearably wicked. I now see it as the place I overcame with courage and determination.
Although some years have passed I think about that night often. It could have possibly been the turning point in my life.
We were a family of five, connected by a tiny thread. My stepfather had begun drinking early that night. Talking to the trash can. Beating on my mom. And then, the night morphed into more rage, more anger.
He took a hammer after us, three kids. My mother was shouting “put your shoes on.” “Put your shoes on!” He’d burst the television into tiny pieces.
As we headed for the front door.
I glanced over at my mom.
She threw her bathrobe on.
And there we were running for our very lives.
It felt like we’d ran all night. By then the sun was coming up again.
I can’t say what happened next. If there is anything left to tell.
The rest is foggy, vague even. I don’t remember sleeping. I don’t remember packing up the house afterward.
I just know, mom said: “enough”. She wasn’t going to fight not like that anymore.
What I can say, what was meant for evil. Somehow, as always, we made it out. We’ve had a few bumps and bruises along the way. Nothing that can’t be repaired. We had our lives.
I’ve come to appreciate peace in my home. The stillness of the water. The joys of being alive. The love that’s shown even in the roughest times.
We made it. Never to return again.~your Kindness sister Krissy Mosley
true stories from my childhood