This is an excerpt from my memoir-in-progress. I’m sharing it here to offer a glimpse into one night from my childhood that changed everything. Thank you for reading.
(Trigger warning: domestic violence)
The road ahead of us was a strip of darkness, narrowing to nothing as we barreled down the center lane. Mom’s hand tightened around my ankle, her grip a lifeline in the chaos. Dad suddenly announced he had to pee, slamming the van into park, and jumping out of the van before I could process what was happening. His footsteps crunched against the gravel like gunshots. Before he could circle the front of the van, Mom threw open the passenger door and bolted, her heels clacking against the pavement. I watched, helpless, as she stumbled and fell, her body shrinking in the distance.
“Mommy!” I screamed, but the van was already lurching forward, leaving her behind in the darkness.
But before Dad and I reached that dark stretch of road, before Mom ran for her life and I was left screaming in the back of the van, the evening had started like so many others…
Mom was so happy to see me in a dress that evening. It was probably only the fifth dress I’d worn up to that point. She would dress me up in one every year on the last day of school during elementary school. I still remember the one from kindergarten, a bright yellow dress with ruffles swarming the bottom, the perfect taste of spring. Dresses stopped after elementary when Mom finally surrendered to my constant pouting every time she mentioned putting me in one.
“Here’s some lip gloss. It’s strawberry flavor,” Mom said, opening the palm of her hand, expecting me to race to get it.
“Thanks mom,” I said, even though I hated to wear lip gloss. I already knew I would probably hide it in the car on the way to the wedding.
If this piece moved you or you’d like to read more chapters as I release them, feel free to follow or leave a comment. This memoir is a work in progress — thank you for being here.
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