When I was 12 or 13 years old my grandparents on my mother's side made the trip from Enid, Ok, to our home in Bryan Texas. They would make this trip maybe four time total in my childhood if that. We got to see them for three months every summer so it's not like we were apart that long. So anyways the memory that I speak upon today is one in which summarizes the overarching theme of treatment by my mother and guardians.
One day my mother and both grandparents as well as myself were in the living room at our original childhood home at Brockhampton. My mother had begun playing fetch with our dog Belle which required her to throw the toy in my direction but there was plenty of room around me for the toy to project, so every toss would be to one side. After a few throws my mom takes Belle's toy and throws it and it hits me square in the face. Laughter would begin with my mother and follow with my grandparents. I sat there for a generous two minutes afterwards and all they did was make fun of me so I just got up and left. It's a situation where I was expected to love and cherish the time I had during my grandparent's brief visit, to catch up with them, and have conversation, but instead I had to retreat to my room to avoid further mockery. They would leave back home to Oklahoma the following day.
YOU ARE READING
Searching for the Answer
Non-FictionThis is a compilation of stories involving childhood abuse and trauma through a first-person impactful perspective mostly chronological. It is my story and is not fabricated in any way. I am posting just to get feedback thank you.
