Forward

 

I'm finding my way back to sanity again,

though I don't really know what I’m gonna do when I get there.

I take a breath and hold on tight, spin around one more time

and gracefully fall back to the arms of grace – Lifehouse

 

 

The memory that dates farthest back for me isn’t really an event, but more like a photograph that exists only in my mind. When I tell people about it, few actually believe I can remember something from so long ago. I’m not real sure how I can either. Maybe it was a gift, given to me in a dream, and I decided to keep it as a memory.

 It is a simple memory. It is not clouded by all the details that appeal to all my senses these days and take up all the room in my mind where simple reason used to belong. My mom was lying on a big four-post bed that was diagonal in a room somewhere.  I -who was surely less than a year old and perhaps only a few months old,  as it seems that I could not have sat up even if I had wanted to- lay next to her. She was propped up on one elbow looking at me. My Dad was near the end of the bed talking about the dog that he had; a yellowish and white boxer named Roxy. I am really not exactly sure how I remember this or why. Conceivably, even as a small child I was aware that every moment with my mom could be the last… or maybe my tendency to remember everything was just a part of normal separation anxiety that later became a way of life as my mother drifted regularly in and out of mine.

It is oddly enough the only recollection I have of my Mom and my Dad ever being in the same place at the same time and the only time I remember seeing my dad before he left. I don’t actually remember him leaving though; just knowing that he was gone. Memories like that one are the remains of what would later become my childhood.

            To me, at the time I was a child, my childhood was completely normal. Probably because it was all I knew. For reasons left unknown to me at the time, I lived with my grandparents most of the time. My mom, who could not be any more perfect in my eyes, stopped by to visit and took me for weekends often enough. It was always exciting to go spend time with her. It was nothing like being with my grandparents. There were no schedules, no bedtimes, no eating at the table. It was always different. She lived several places and so there were always new people to meet or a new apartment complex or backyard to explore. Even things as simple as taking a bath were fun when there was a different bathtub. My mom also had different people hanging around all the time; some friends from work, some boyfriends. She usually depended on other people for rides, so we got to go in a lot of different cars too. One of my favorite memories was being in one of her boyfriend’s cars at night. It was a deep pink camaro and I was sitting in the back seat, barely tall enough to see out the window. I was probably only five at the time. I remember watching all the city and streetlights go by and I can still remember the smell of leather from his seats and the warm night time air. Maneater was playing on the radio really loud and I was trying to understand why someone would write such a scary song about a woman who ate men. I also remember the feeling it gave me knowing that time with my mom was so free. At my grandparents, everything was predictable. We never listened to the radio in the car, and we rarely even went out at night. Children belonged in bed after dark. I think that if my grandparents knew half the stuff I did with my mom, they would have lost their minds. I also think that because of the things that they did know and that I didn’t understand, that is probably why I lived with them. As I pass through the ages that my mom was when I was a child; I begin to see things through her perspective. I like the perspective I had as a child better. 

            My mom had a very troubled adolescence. All the details I do not know. What I do know is that she started dating when she was very young. At 16 she married James Derryl Boaz, who would later become my uncle. I do not know very much about their marriage- only that it was short lived and they had nice pictures. My mom looked nothing like a sixteen-year-old in her beautiful wedding dress and veil. The pictures that portrayed what seemed to be the beginning of a happy union were merely a façade. I guess what her and Derryl had just wasn’t enough. I’m not real sure what enough IS when you’re sixteen, and maybe she wasn’t either.   She was drawn to his older brother. He would become my father. His name is Gary and he walked a little more on the dangerous side of life. She and Derryl got a divorce and her love affair with my Dad fit in there somewhere. As if the trouble of going between two brothers isn’t enough in itself, I can only imagine what judgements came from all of my grandparents.

            It wasn’t too much later that my mother became pregnant. She was 18. In my baby book it says that her and my dad were so happy to have me and that she always wanted a baby. I was “the perfect gift.” A new baby in time for Christmas. Who would know that eighteen years later her baby would become a mother too and she wouldn’t be here to see it? Life is funny like that. It seems we spend so much time envisioning the future and its never quite how we think it will be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'm finding my way back to sanity again,

though I don't really know what I’m gonna do when I get there.

I take a breath and hold on tight, spin around one more time

and gracefully fall back to the arms of grace – Lifehouse

 

FOREWARD

The memory that dates farthest back for me isn’t really an event, but more like a photograph that exists only in my mind.  When I tell people about it, few actually believe I can remember something from so long ago.  I’m not real sure how I can either. Maybe it was a gift, given to me in a dream, and I decided to keep it as a memory.

 It is a simple memory. It is not clouded by all the details that appeal to all my senses these days and take up all the room in my mind where simple reason used to belong. My mom was lying on a big four-post bed that was diagonal in a room somewhere.  I -who was surely less than a year old and perhaps only a few months old,  as it seems that I could not have sat up even if I had wanted to- lay next to her.  She was propped up on one elbow looking at me. My Dad was near the end of the bed talking about the dog that he had; a yellowish and white boxer named Roxy. I am really not exactly sure how I remember this or why. Conceivably, even as a small child I was aware that every moment with my mom could be the last…  or maybe my tendency to remember everything was just a part of normal separation anxiety that later became a way of life as my mother drifted regularly in and out of mine.

It is oddly enough the only recollection I have of my Mom and my Dad ever being in the same place at the same time and the only time I remember seeing my dad before he left.  I don’t actually remember him leaving though; just knowing that he was gone.  Memories like that one are the remains of what would later become my childhood.

            To me, at the time I was a child, my childhood was completely normal. Probably because it was all I knew. For reasons left unknown to me at the time, I lived with my grandparents most of the time. My mom, who could not be any more perfect in my eyes, stopped by to visit and took me for weekends often enough. It was always exciting to go spend time with her. It was nothing like being with my grandparents. There were no schedules, no bedtimes, no eating at the table. It was always different. She lived several places and so there were always new people to meet or a new apartment complex or backyard to explore. Even things as simple as taking a bath were fun when there was a different bathtub. My mom also had different people hanging around all the time; some friends from work, some boyfriends. She usually depended on other people for rides, so we got to go in a lot of different cars too. One of my favorite memories was being in one of her boyfriend’s cars at night. It was a deep pink camaro and I was sitting in the back seat, barely tall enough to see out the window. I was probably only five at the time. I remember watching all the city and streetlights go by and I can still remember the smell of leather from his seats and the warm night time air. Maneater was playing on the radio really loud and I was trying to understand why someone would write such a scary song about a woman who ate men. I also remember the feeling it gave me knowing that time with my mom was so free. At my grandparents, everything was predictable. We never listened to the radio in the car, and we rarely even went out at night. Children belonged in bed after dark. I think that if my grandparents knew half the stuff I did with my mom, they would have lost their minds.  I also think that because of the things that they did know and that I didn’t understand, that is probably why I lived with them. As I pass through the ages that my mom was when I was a child; I begin to see things through her perspective. I like the perspective I had as a child better. 

            My mom had a very troubled adolescence. All the details I do not know. What I do know is that she started dating when she was very young. At 16 she married James Derryl Boaz, who would later become my uncle.  I do not know very much about their marriage- only that it was short lived and they had nice pictures. My mom looked nothing like a sixteen-year-old in her beautiful wedding dress and veil.  The pictures that portrayed what seemed to be the beginning of a happy union were merely a façade. I guess what her and Derryl had just wasn’t enough. I’m not real sure what enough IS when you’re sixteen, and maybe she wasn’t either.   She was drawn to his older brother. He would become my father.  His name is Gary and he walked a little more on the dangerous side of life. She and Derryl got a divorce and her love affair with my Dad fit in there somewhere.  As if the trouble of going between two brothers isn’t enough in itself, I can only imagine what judgements came from all of my grandparents.

            It wasn’t too much later that my mother became pregnant. She was 18.  In my baby book it says that her and my dad were so happy to have me and that she always wanted a baby. I was “the perfect gift.”  A new baby in time for Christmas. Who would know that eighteen years later her baby would become a mother too and she wouldn’t be here to see it? Life is funny like that. It seems we spend so much time envisioning the future and its never quite how we think it will be 

Reviews

[Rain]

I think your memory of those times are amazing, and somehow believable. Your insights, looking back, are incredible. It was a compelling read, and does make me want to know more. I like the simple , but lasting memories...like riding in the Camaro and remembering " Maneater." Your observations at that age seem so presise. That's how a five year old would perceive that song. I think this is a beginning that would make the reader want more. Well done. Rain..

[Helen Woodward]

This is a good teaser/lead-in for a novel, it whets the appetite giving the reader incentive to go on...
I would say it should be either Foreword (with an O) or Prologue... it reads like a non-fiction piece because it is told in the 1st person narrative (through your eyes) and non-fiction will be published quicker than fiction. I'm not sure why you double-spaced it for this forum? Your entire novel will need to be double-spaced for editing purposes should you go on with your dream...I hope you do as I think this shows great promise. Think about block paragraphing (no indents) as it looks much better on the page. Many authors, including myself, are now using this method. There are a few typos, but you can easily edit those in revision...I really like the way you have put this together, please send me the first chapter as I am frantic at the moment, but will get to it asap...congrats and use single spacing for posting here...
Helen :)

[leigha]

I don't think it's too broad � it has 4 basic concepts:
- earliest memory
- life w/ grandparents
- life w/ mom (& reasons why)
- becoming a mother
& YES, I definitely wanted to read on!! Good Job!

[TL Boehm]

I have to admit I read this backwards, reading the chapter and then this forward. The thing about depression is that it can run in families. Kudos to you for illuminating this in the forward...Depression is a creeper....not always a sudden issue in our lives.

[PerfectlyxSilent]

I really like this. It's so sad, yet keeps innocence, truth, and beauty all woven into one. I really, really like the way you're being so truthful, none of the memories hidden or vague. It's actually quite amazing you can still remember all these things. Wonderful job ~ keep writing!