Around the holidays can be some of the most painful times. I’m pretty sure, I’m not the only one. Maybe, I’m more of a rare bird. Observing the lives of myself and others. I’m not quite sure if both events run together. Here’s how I recall them.
I won a turkey from school that year. I was so happy to bring a turkey home. We didn’t have much food. We never did. I’d tucked the turkey into my coat. I wanted to surprise mommy. I went down the street smiling from ear to ear. The world was grand. I lugged that huge ten-pound turkey against the skin of my school clothes. (truly one of my better memories to keep.)
I pulled out that turkey, we jumped and jumped. My brother, sister, and mommy danced all around. Maybe, holiday cheer had come early. Little did we know, of evenings’ turning tide.
As a kid, I loved to get away. From all that cheery, give-me-this/ give -me -that, I would lock myself in a room. Watch all the Christmas episodes until I’d fall asleep.
Grandma did what she could. She’d sat out the chestnuts, walnuts, and acorns as our family tradition. She’d make me help with the sweet potato pies. I made so many pies. I could make them in my sleep.
I enjoyed cooking with granny. She’d wobbled, only so far. Then make me do the heavy, blending, mixing and setting the table. Not too many heart-to-heart talks with grandma. When they did surface, it was a tidal wave for both of us.
I brought up the time, I’d won that turkey. Our celebration was cut short. As I watched. Mama being pounded in the head by my stepfather. Over the toilet bowl, he beat her in the face. Pushed her head down into the small porcelain-liquid.
I guess I’d seen enough, at my age.
Heard the racket and ran. I got the broom from the kitchen.
What was I thinking, at nine years old?
I pushed that broom into his back. I grit my teeth together.
I shouted as loud as I possibly could.
“Get off my mother! Or so help me God!”
I remember standing there, in the bathroom, trembling.
The peeled, teal-paint on my back.
I could have melted into those walls. If they’d let me.
I remember the shocking, awkward look on both their faces.
That now what moment?
I’ve disturbed a pit bull in full feast mode.
He dropped mama’s head.
He raised his hands in front of me. I thought, surely his gonna kill me but he didn’t. He walked right past me.
After that, we didn’t celebrate too many more holidays together, as a family. My siblings and I soon went to live with grandma. Mama stayed in Texas with her new husband. Holidays were never the same.
I still wanna lock myself in a room.
Watch all the Christmas specials, don’t come out until its all-over.
However with children of my own. Blessings of life and favor, so much to be thankful for. I’ll be attempting my part of good cheer. Making grandma’ sweet potato pies.
Hey, that’s life, we give it all we’ve got. Life keeps on going,~your Kindness sister, Krissy Mosley
A Poet's Vision 
Your memories are terrifying and amazing. There’s a book there…and I would totally buy it! (Also, I want your grandma’s sweet potato pie recipe!)
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I appreciate that, in hopes to do just that & I’ll have to leave her secret to those pies in the book. 💕 Same here if Praypower4today goes to print. I’d buy. I often read your words especially those poems, with my family for a daily dose of inspiration 💕😊
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Thank you for opening the window to your life.
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good to hear from you wow, 8 flights, safe travels & safe landing, good to know you are well 😊💕
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You are an amazing writer. I’m sorry you had to go through this. God has a wonderful plan for you! (I would totally buy your book, too!)
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aw, thank you Michelle and welcome to my blog reading through your blog now I’b sure to leave some words for you as well. 😊
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Thank you! I’m enjoying your blog as well. 🙂
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Incredible story, Krissy! Sometimes I wish they’d put in a button other than “Like” for posts like this, maybe a heart emoji inside someone’s hands. I feel like you had my heart in your hands when you picked up that broomstick as a child! I was worried for you as if you were MY child. Also, it could be a symbol that God’s in there, somewhere. Not in the bruises but that pivotal moment when your stepfather walked out instead of hitting you. Powerful, beautiful. Heart-wrenching. I’m with Lori. Sign me up for that book when it’s ready.
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aw, making me cry & you are so right on those new emojis’ that would be awesome. I do believe God was always there , wow, thank you Ruth. I’ll carry these beautiful words with me , 💕😊
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You’re right. We give it all we got and process the moments. Many reoccur when we least expect it. Many have to be defeated again and again. Many provide wisdom and the desire to create a new path. You’re a strong woman, filled with direction and perspective and love. You’re navigating the spaces with all you’ve got. I commend you. Keep pushing and healing self and others with the sharing of your journey. You are appreciated.
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thank you kindly for these words. So encouraging & inspiring. I appreciate your dedication and works of writting through healing as well blessings to you 😊💕
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Thank you so much. May we continue to grow and share this journey. We got this ❤️
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indeed, I’m right with you 😊
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