Megan Traina
Stories (2)
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Seasons Changing
The spring I was seven the couch sat against the window in our front room. With the blinds open you could see out into the road that led to our driveway. I had been sitting there watching the road for hours, waiting for any sign that she was coming home. The house was still, it always was when my dad was this mad and my little brother was smart enough not to provoke him. There I sat, cloaked in the silence hugging that same tear-soaked blue cotton pillow I had held onto many times before. Even at that age I knew what she was doing. I knew she would not be home for days, weeks, or possibly months. If my little heart could have willed anything, it would have been her pulling up in the driveway. Maybe she had just gone out for groceries like other normal moms did. That wasn’t the case though, so I sat on that couch by the window looking out onto the street, letting my tears soak that blue cotton pillow.
By Megan Traina5 years ago in Families
Awareness
I am at this stage in life where I am struggling to define who, and what for that matter, I am. I know I am all the basic things that you think of when asked to define yourself. I am a daughter of Shirley and James, I am the mother of Scarlett and Noah, I am the sister of Michael, I am the girlfriend to Tripp, and a friend to many. The list goes on. Those only define my relationships though, not ME. I know I can define myself by what I look like. I am short at only five foot tall. I have dyed red hair although my natural color is black as the night. Most people would call my eyes brown but, in the light, they are mostly green. I have a good bit of random tattoos that go from the side of my head to my ankles. I have scars, so many scars. I could go on describing every inch of me in detail, but that is not really me. At one point I was six pounds, with fresh skin and dark hair and eyes and that was still me. My body is everchanging, growing, expanding (sometimes in ways I don’t care for), taking beatings and eventually breaking. It does not define me.
By Megan Traina5 years ago in Psyche
