Bedtime– slept on the top bunk,
which is closer to touching the night sky,
but too close to the white barrier that
decks me if I raise my head like a giraffe.
The silence of the night made it easier to hear,
or what I didn't want to hear.
Yeah, that included what was happening in my parents' room
on the other side– small house.
My sister was sleeping in the bottom bunk.
She was back home for the summer from college.
I was only a teenager with a thick, reclusive shell–
quiet, enjoying solitude, easy to forget I exist,
more talkative in environments I bonded with.
Mom, sister, and father encouraged me to talk more:
“Be sociable!”
So, I did.
I brought my family great laughs while playing The Game of Life.
My tongue felt off from talking too much,
yet I felt free.
"She was in rare form."
I lost, anyway,
but a good night to bed.
Mother and father were still in the living room,
next to my room, where I was still awake.
My head faced the wall of separation
with my eyes opened,
pretending the obstacle wasn't there,
visualizing where my mom and dad were sitting.
What mother mumbled with the same level of hurt
as overhearing my frustrated father saying one night,
"Tired of these brats. They'll be in new homes tomorrow":
I was talking too much like I needed to shut up–
too upbeat for a quiet bunny–
utter betrayal.
My dad sighed heavily,
rumbling exasperation,
“You told her to talk, but now you don’t?”
-----
A/N: I understand where my father's frustration came from. His anger built before it blew up. I was the one who popped the lid that night because I broke a rule (the rule went over my head and it's why I don't have Facebook anymore). I felt horrible. I took my punishment. He became reasonable once he settled down like he always did. I miss him.
Have a nice day, everyone! If you're going to talk about your kids during the night, say some nice things instead. We will remember that.
About the Creator
Ace Melee
Hello, everyone! Creative writing is an essential asset for me since it frees my imagination from getting hit by the barrier of the skull. It hurts when it's locked in and roars when oppressed- it was destined to soar.
Comments (5)
This is heartbreaking. I personally know where you are coming from and worse my father (step) would say a lot of these hurtful things to my face. I was from ages 6 to 14 when all this happened. Excellent work Ace!!!
Such a powerful one, written incredibly well and concise getting a good lesson across to. <3
Well written & sage advice to conclude with.
Oh, my heart. I'm so sorry you overheard that, Ace. 😔💗 That is so hurtful and those comments we hear when we're young (especially from our parents) really do stick with us. I'm glad that you were able to patch things up with your parents. I'm sorry you overheard this. Thank you so much for writing and sharing this piece to the sleepy mission mini-challenge. 💗💗💗
Our youngest brother once heard our mother say that he was a mistake. I'm sure she meant that they simply hadn't planned him but that he was a serendipitous gift. Then again, knowing mom, maybe not. She once told me, "That sounds awful" when I was trying to learn a song on my own as a third grader. We both still remember. I'm 64.