3 Chasing Belonging

Around 2010 my daughters are dressed as Crayons. Walking only three blocks for Halloween candy is more than enough to make them happy and give me enough Polaroids.

Around 1996 Kyle yelled “Yo, Fat Girl” while he looked directly at me. He was just reciting a lyric. It hurt so deeply that I saw myself that way for years. Sometimes I still do.

Around 2003 I moved out. On my own, in a big, harsh world, and lonely. I tasted depression, and it sent me back home.

Around 1983 I feared hell and chased heaven. I wonder what I knew so simply then that I can’t seem to regain.

Around 2006 I saw myself in the eyes of my first born, and I knew I would never be the same. I knew that her pain would be my pain.

Around 1994 my dad had two heart attacks and a triple bypass. We were told he had six months to live. He was forty-three; I was just sixteen. He is now seventy.

Around 1988 I watched Dirty Dancing. I wanted to be Baby. She was responsibly rebellious. Johnny needed to remind everyone that “No one puts Baby in a corner.”

Around 2016 he played with his plastic dinosaurs on the white railing of the porch, safe from the gentle summer rain falling on the sidewalk and road beyond. The smell of the rain mixed with the sweet murmurs of his voice stays with me as he grows.

Around 2012 we found a group of ragamuffins that spoke to our faith. We felt like children, believing the bonds of friendship would never change. Deception is not a respecter of age or religion. That hurts. We are still trying to find belonging in Church.

Around 1992 we dropped my brother off at college. I faked asleep in the backseat while I heard my parents cry on the way home.