Chapter One
My memories come to me in spurts. I think maybe its because some are blocked because of fear of remembering too much. To say my childhood was rough would be saying it nicely. Some of the fleeting memories are sweet, others are relived as nightmares.
My "parents" were not parents. My mom was a stripper with friendship ties to a mob. My dad was an abusive drunk who was more interested in roaming around to find another woman to hook up with. Babysitters raised me mostly during my early stages of life. Mom of course would bring some of her best tippers home with her from time to time. That's when the old saying children are to be seen and not heard came into play. Although she didn't mind if they were heard. I was always thankful to have been an only child. It was hard enough to protect me. It would have been harder to protect a sibling too. But then again sometimes it would have been nice to have someone to talk to and have as a distraction. I know that sounds selfish, but misery loves company sometimes.
One of my moms mob friends was this nice old man. He was sort of like a grandpa figure. He loved cigars, and he would keep all his cigar boxes and fill them with rolls of coins. Every week he would come by at least once and he would have at least four of those boxes. He would give them to me, his little munchkin. He would sit at the table drinking coffee and chatting. When he would leave those boxes would not be seen again. Mom of course benefitted from them. New stripper costumes, clothes and shoes. I would get one trip a month to the corner candy store and get to pick out one piece of candy. Two if for some reason she was feeling generous.
Dad would stop by every now and then when he felt guilty for not being around. It was never happy when he did. Lots of fighting, yelling and hitting. Then he would go again. Leaving behind a mess that I was lucky enough to have to pay for. I had to hear how life would not be this way if I hadn't been born. Since when did I have a choice in whether or not I was born?!
The best part of these days were when the babysitters would be with me while mom was "working". Those days were actually happy and I felt loved. It was a group called The Seekers. A church group to be exact. The teens of the church did the babysitting. They would earn money while, unbeknownst to them, they gave kids like me love and caring that was not given anywhere else. They taught me more than I think they knew they were. Compassion, caring and unconditional love. When they were there they were actually there. They spent time with me, laughing, playing, talking, watching TV, and reading to me. They would tuck me in with warm hugs and soft kisses on my cheek. Softly read me a bedtime story and make sure the covers were tucked in around me to keep me warm. Sometimes I just wished they would take me home with them so I would have that love every day. I wish I could have stayed that age forever so they would never have been told they were not needed anymore. Then again, who would have ever thought a six year old was too old for a babysitter?? My mom, that's who.
Yep, at six years old I was my own babysitter. When mom was "working" I was at home taking care of me. I was making my own meals. Cleaning my own messes afterwards, because if any kind of mess was left I paid for it. I was making sure my lunch for school was ready and my clothes laid out. Tucking myself in, and setting an alarm so I was up in time to catch the bus. I would reward myself some days by going in behind the apartment complex and dig through the trash bins to find "new" toys to play with. Sometimes I would find some donuts still in the wrapper and get to have a sweet treat. You know what they say, one mans trash is another mans treasure. I found some pretty cool treasures sometimes. At least to a six year old they were.
These are some of my good memories. I've yet to delve into the ones that are like nightmares. But I will get to those soon enough. Let's keep dwelling on the good ones a bit longer OK. This way I can smile some as I tell you about them.
There was this one Christmas where three of the babysitters from the seekers, that took turns babysitting me, came by with two gifts they had for me. One was a little wooden child sized table that folded up when not in use so it could be put up. The other was a wooden chair that the back could be brought down in the front to make it a step stool. It was for making reaching the bathroom sink easier so I could brush my teeth. I used them both constantly. Wish I knew where those ended up. I would love to still have them. Oh how I cherished those two simple little things. They brought me more joy than I bet they ever would have believed. They were the beginning to imaginative adventures. They are what started the hopes and dreams for a way to a better life. Sounds silly and odd I know, but they were. The chair/stool was my car seat and bus seat, train seat etc..... And since the table folded up, it was my steering wheel. Together they took me all over the world. A world far from the one I really lived in.
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