That Day

I remember everything about that day

My bedroom where I lay my head each night
Full of the little girl things that brought me joy
Waiting for me to fill it with my laughter
It watched me that day

My darling baby doll, the one who ‘wet’ and cried and ate
Her big blue eyes wide open as she sat in her cradle
Waiting for me to dress her for tea
She watched me that day

My wonderful magical slinky that sat coiled on the floor
It’s silver metal wire glistened in the sun
Waiting for me to set it walking down the stairs
It watched me that day

My red- framed “Etch a Sketch’ with it’s white twisty knobs
Coloured paper, crayons, paints and markers
Waiting for me to create a masterpiece on their blank pages
They watched me that day.

The faint smell of lemon from the polish on my floor
The softness of the pink sheets that covered my bed
The look of the curtains as they fluttered in the breeze
The sound of his footsteps as he came to my room
The taste of my pillow as I smothered my cries.

I remember everything about that day

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2 thoughts on “That Day

  1. […] Sometimes I wonder if ‘he’ ever thinks about what he did to me. […]

  2. […] the rape when I was 13, the abusive marriage, the self-destructive behaviours and addictions but what that man did to me when I was in kindergarten and grade one was a conversation I was NOT having.  No f**king […]

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