A Time Far Removed

“When you finally travel back to your old home, you will find it wasn’t the home you missed, but your childhood.”

- S Ewing

My earliest memories were in a little red house up the road from a pig farm. In hotter months, the heat would carry the pervasive smell of that farm all the way to our house. My sister was three years older than me so when she was in school, my dad and I would go on long drives: just the two of us. We would sing loudly to R.E.M. cassettes and listen to “Come on Eileen” on the radio. We always preferred having the windows down. There’s nothing quite as free as feeling the wind in your hair as you pick your way through the rural landscape of Ohio.

But of course we would make our way home and once the smell of the pig farm stung our noses, we would hurry to roll up the windows. Dad would make a big show of the race against time as he would rapidly crank his window closed by hand. I would squeal with laughter as I less-successfully raced against the suffocating smell of the pig farm to close my own window.

When you’re in the earliest years of your life, memories are fragmented and brief. My first memory ever is hardly more than a picture- a snapshot in time. We had an old kitchen with an island and a big sliding glass door. I stood in front of this door, watching my dad mow. I was so upset that he wouldn’t let me ride on his lap this time. So I stood in the vain air conditioning and watched my dad creep across the yard in our ancient riding mower with his brow furrowed and his bare chest red and slick with sweat in the summer heat

On another day in this same life I can never return to, my mom stood in that same old kitchen with my sister and me. Leaning her back against the island, she waited for my sister’s and my input. She had asked if we wanted to spend the night at Grams’s house like a slumber party. It would be a girls’ night with only my sister, my mom, my grandma and myself.

Even though Grams lived only a few short miles away, it was a tender invitation to adventure. My sister and I were so excited to accept this invitation that we rushed to pack our overnight bags as quickly as we could. Grams always had gifts and fun things for us to do. I couldn’t imagine what having our own sleepover party would be like. I couldn’t get there fast enough.

I didn't know that my mom had decided to leave my dad, taking my sister and me with her while he was away at work. I didn't know that we were going to be living with Grams for the next few months until we moved in with who would eventually become my stepdad. I didn't know that my mom had told my family that my dad was abusive and stalking us and to never EVER tell him where we were. The dad that was my superhero became a villain based on a lie- doors slammed in his face any time he asked a relative where his wife and daughters were.

I didn't know that the magical world I had known- simply life from the perspective of a child- would come crashing down into nothing. I didn't know, I didn't know, I didn't know...

I never saw my little red house again.