Saturday, February 12, 2011
when i was little, lets say early elementary, i can remember getting in trouble and being sent to my room. i had a little brother which meant if i was sent to my room then so was he. this memory is after the divorce. i can remember only 1 time when my father was in that house and he was asleep on the sofa. after that one time that i remember i don't remember ever seeing him in that house again. hmmm. makes me stop and think; i never looked at it that way before. but still. we were little. and i would sit in the doorway of my bedroom and look down the hall straight into my brother's room. i remember how much he played and played while we were "in trouble" and confined to our rooms. i remember sitting there and wondering how he could PLAY. it was like it never phased him to be sent to his room. it didn't matter. he just kept PLAYING. and i would just sit there in my doorway. i'm sure that as many cars and trucks that he had i had just as many dolls and accessories for them. but i would just sit in my doorway. and watch. it wasn't until later on in my life and after i had cameron that i realized i didn't have an imagination. i didn't know how to PLAY with cameron as he grew before my very eyes. but somehow he did. and there i was. nothing. i was a housewife and mother. my house was immaculate but my imagination wasn't. cameron's father was never home and when cameron was in school i was alone all day. and most of the time cameron and i were alone until late in the evening. so there i was in my late twenties and i had to teach myself imagination. i look back at that little girl sitting on the hardwood floor. in that doorway. lost. i don't remember what i did after we could come out of our rooms.