The One Change

In Monday morning writers.com write in zoom meeting they asked us to write about one moment in time, one change in our life that could have led to a very different outcome had it not happened. For me that was easy and hard all at the same time.

At 5, someone took from me what should have been mine to keep. You wouldn’t think one could remember at such a young age, but the body remembers even if the mind tries to forget.

In my case, both remembered.

I grew up not knowing who to trust.

I grew up far too aware of my own body.

I grew up thinking that’s what little girls were for and that somehow, it was okay.

It wasn’t the only time.

Predators find those already wounded.

I learned to play a role before I knew my own name in numbers.

Was that my fault? No, not at all.

I never had adults who protected me.

I never had lessons on bodily autonomy.

I wasn’t watched over closely enough.

My mother worked long hours, took business trips.

We had a caretaker, but she only made sure we were fed

and indoors before dark.

I could go anywhere, do anything,

and no one checked in.

There were no nightly questions about my day.

I was a kid—what trouble could I possibly be in?

And in the end, I carried the self-blame.

The guilt of not speaking up,

of not telling my mom—

who spent my early childhood either working herself

to the bone or fighting for her life.

Before I could learn to stand up for myself,

she was gone.

I’m not telling this for pity,

and I’m not justifying why I was in situations with boys

at ages 9, 11, 16.

I shouldn’t have to justify anything.

I was a child who was taught all the wrong lessons

about my own worth.

I knew about intimacy long before I knew about

the changes my own body would go through.

So when you ask me the one moment in my life

that, if changed, could have led to a completely different outcome—

there’s no hesitation in my answer:

If predators learned to keep their hands to themselves,

if they valued their vows,

if they left children to simply be children,

I would have had a chance.

Maybe I’d have gone to college,

studied journalism,

interviewed the Queen like I once dreamed.

Maybe I’d have been brave enough to go for it.

But my mother never had to bear this burden in her last days.

She left this world in peace.

And if I had to do it all again,

I would still keep it from her—

because I gave her that peace.

I did that.

_________________________

Thanks for reading! --Sam