A Stick, a Rock, and a Can of Pepper Spray

There are moments in each of our lives that we know could have played out differently. In some cases, different would have been better, and we spend so long torturing ourselves with regret over what might have been. Yet there are other moments that come and pass, leaving us feeling lucky and blessed that they worked out the way they did.

Too often, though, we let those moments become a fleeting memory of the past, without realizing how if things had been different, we might spend our lives wishing things had been different. Free of that burden of regret, we should still remember those moments, cherishing them for the outcome of blessing.

There are many of these moments in my life, and within so many of those moments, there are people who contributed to my being blessed, and if I could, I would write to each of them a letter of thanks, a tribute of praise. There is, however, a small group of people who once did me a great favor, and it is because of them that I have a memory that is cherished. To those dear people, I write the following in true gratitude:

To My Big Sis, NikkiLove, and Roberto:

That was a night that started like any other. I was home alone, hoping to complete my chores and slip away before he made it through the door. But he came home early and in a foul mood – no real big news there. He became so angry so quickly, and it escalated from there. So strange is a man that seeing his youngest child washing dishes can set him off so violently. I’d paid for those dishes myself, handpicked them from an antique store, but before he was done, their shards littered the counters and the floor. Pure terror flowed through me, the adrenaline made me shake and clench my fists. Still, I held my ground and held back my tears, too.

I made it to my shoes and sat down on a stool just long enough to pull them over my toes. I looked up to a fist hovering in front of my nose, and I clenched my jaw tightly shut, trying to think what to do. I said a prayer and reached over to the phone, dialing as quickly as my fingers could go. She picked up, but I could barely hear her over the music that filled the place. The dance was in full swing, the teens already laughing and dancing to the nineties music that blared over the phone.

‘Mom, I’m scared. He has his fist in my face. Please talk to him!’

I cried out, pushing the phone into his hand. He yelled into the receiver, angrier and redder in the face than I’d seen him before. She distracted him long enough for me to slide down to the floor, and I ran into the dark and cold night, my shoelaces dangling as I bolted out the door.

She worked just a block away at the teen and youth center, and I got across the street from my house and looked back to see him standing angrily at the door. He stayed still and silent, though, as I tied my shoes and continued on. I made it to the end of the block with the tears finally falling down. But then, I saw all of you, and in place of tears, came laughs so hearty and full.

Three teens came scrambling up the concrete wall. In each hand, a different weapon, a grim and determined look set on each face. A stick in one hand, pepper spray, and a large rock as well. My sister and her best friend with boyfriend in tow. Truthfully, I’d already made it to safety, but seeing you all bounding toward me, ready to save me from his fury and armed to the teeth as well. You huddled around me, and he lifted me and carried me inside to safety. You danced with me and did your best to make me forget.

Mom couldn't leave, so you all volunteered to come to my rescue. That night, after the dance, when her job was complete, mom filed the suit and the order to restrain was issued. Everything changed after that night, and nothing was ever the same.

That night is burned in my memory forever. And so many times I have looked back on it with wondering - how different would life had been if not for ... well, so many different things. But more than the fear, anger, resentment, and pain that threatens to consume me each time, I think back to the sight of three teenagers rushing and leaping over a wall made of concrete. A weapon in hand, you came to my rescue And that night was only one of many where my presence you welcomed and tolerated, knowing what awaited me if I was forced to stay home alone.

My mother adopted you all, and you loved her desperately. But you all adopted me, and you loved me equally, and it has made all the difference in my life. I don’t think you’ll ever understand. It’s not that I ever needed the rescue as I’d learned long before how to save myself from his wrath. But you all saved me in another and even better way. You saved my soul and my heart, and in so many ways every day after, you did, in fact… save my life.

You made me feel like more than just a tagalong. More than just the annoyance I know I was. You made me feel special and loved... With friendship, guidance, and love, you gave me so many gifts. But the best gift of all was the vivid image and memory of three teens hopping a concrete wall, armed to the teeth.

A stick, a rock, and a can of pepper spray...

For that night and all the ones like it, I thank you deeply and truly from the bottom of my heart. With love and gratitude, I send this letter on the air to you.

Love,

Little Me.

*****

❤ Author's final note: Thank you for reading the piece above! If you enjoyed it, check out some of my other work below! And please don't forget to hit the ❤ button below and share with your friends!

Check out my first ever fiction piece on Vocal below!

Also, check out one my two Top Story recipients below!

This one is a poem:

And this one is a short story about finding love:

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