Thursday, February 17, 2011
when we were little we hated going to bed. especially me. i don't remember being tucked in or kissed good night. my grandpa would always tell the story of a little girl who would stand up in her bed and yell "good luck!" "good night everybody!" "good luck!" over and over. eventually i would lay down and go to sleep. but in the mornings when i would wake up my eyes would be all gooey and i couldn't open them. they (i suppose my grandparents) would have to get a warm wash cloth and wipe my eyes until i could open them. i think i was two years old. ah, so many stories i've heard about this little girl. my mother says that when she would come check on us before she went to bed that i would raise up right when she was leaning down to kiss my forehead. she must have gotten a few busted lips. the thing is i don't remember any of those times. but what i do remember is a few years later. i was in elementary school. and, at night i was always afraid. but i didn't know why. i would lie in my bed surrounded by all my 'babies' and their blankets. they all needed to be covered up too, right? as i lay there, in the dark, all i could think of was that i had to sleep on my back. i had to make sure that nothing would be able to sneak up behind me should i turn onto my side while i slept. it took so long for sleep to take me. to this day i am afraid of the dark. and i don't know why. but mike is there and i know that "he's got my back." its very odd to me not remembering being tucked in my bed with a good night kiss. a book was never read, a night light never left on, just knowing i lay in that bed alone and afraid. for so long i've been so afraid. i remember being so afraid. that little girl lived in fear; i remember the fear.