I somehow feel I will get in trouble for the next upcoming chapters.
Punished. Revisiting that time takes me back there. It is a place I visit rarely.
Dark scary days. Hopeless days. They are all gone now and can no longer hurt me but remembering sometimes is like reliving it.
My heart beats quicker and I hold my breath just typing in the safety of my home.
So, instead today, I will remember the good days at the orphanage. Bright sunny fun, kid kind of days.
I have forgotten many of the kids that lived there with us but a few I could never forget.
The little girl in the bed next to mine for example.
Brenda was .... How do I describe Brenda. She may have been a bit neurotic at 6 or 7 years old. Is that even possible? Some horror must have happened to her in her young life. I would love to know the back stories for some of those kids but then again, perhaps not.
Brenda's bed was right next to mine in that huge dormitory style room with all the iron beds so close together. Crammed so close you could touch the next bed by just stretching your arm out.
Every morning Brenda would wake up in bright red pools of blood soaked sheets. Brenda would pick and claw and tear at the skin on her arms and legs and chest and even her face. She walked around in a bloody scab. Big dark red globs of pain. At night, she would pick her scabs and the process would start all over. I used to fear Brenda and her war-torn body and her blood!
Ragged, torn, uneven dark and bloody scabs on the floor and in her bed. Dried blood and pus.
Keep those things on your own side... I don't want to sleep with pus and dried blood.
When I think of her now, I wonder what traumatic thing had happened in her young life to cause such behavior or was it as simple as self loathing that she wanted to pick herself apart and end up a bloody scab that never healed?
I will never know.
Then there was Starr. Starr was so misunderstood. She would sit for hours in her favorite rocker. Never ever touch her rocking chair or YOU would become the next victim of her ruthless assault.
How would tiny little Starr assault you?
Her endless inane absurd song. Rocking and swaying back and forth.
Back and forth.
Sucking her thumb in between words.
"I knoooowww who I hate. Her naaaaa-aame is Laaaa-nnnnna.
I knoooooowwwwwww who I hate. Her naaaa-me is (insert any name that annoyed or aggravated Starr for the day or the minute)
On and on for hours.
Days. Endlessly hate on anyone who dared to affront her. That sing-song voice.
Endlessly. I can still hear it.
"I knoooo-oooow who I hateeeeeee"
We had been there probably 3 months and were called to the head masters office. We were all 3 going someplace. Do they ever tell children what the plan is? No.
Had I known the destination, I would have passed.
We were packed into the car of our Case Worker and taken out. A day pass.
3 little kids in the back seat of her car totally clueless where we were going.
The City Dump.
The house we lived in when our mom left us was condemned. Torn down. All the contents disposed of.
All of our toys and clothes and our lives were there in the dump. The wind blowing, dark and menacing. Fluttering pieces of paper and garbage whirling around our ankles as we sifted. We were told to find what was ours and dig thru the trash to pick what we wanted. Items that belonged to us.
I found my favorite toy. It was a tin pie. It had a crank and played the tune to "Sing a Song of Sixpence." Tiny black birds would pop out of holes in the tin pie as you slowly turned the crank.
Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened the birds began to sing,
Oh wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?
The king was in his counting house counting out his money,
The queen was in the parlour eating bread and honey
The maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes,
When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose!
I loved that pie and the song. I loved the blackbirds. I remember being so happy to find it and scraping off the sludge of the dump and feeling like I had found buried treasure. My sister found her favorite doll. It was like Christmas Day at the dump.
I wonder what ever happened to my pie?