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The First Time in Waffle Diaries

  • Sept. 13, 2022, 6:10 p.m.
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emphasized textAge 3 or 4

I cannot remember where we lived at the time, and I do not remember much leading up to this morning. I woke up in my oldest sister’s room, sleeping next to her. This wasn’t unusual. I woke up and got out of bed, and as I opened her bedroom door, I saw the back of the largest man I had ever seen in my life. It’s an odd feeling to wake up and find a stranger in your home. I must have made some type of noise or maybe he heard the door open, I have never been sure of which, but he turned around and bent down toward me. Even now when I remember it this man appears so large and ominous. He is a giant and slow-moving creature in mind, terrifying and powerful. He was kind. He said to me, in a warm, calm voice “it’s okay, your mom is downstairs”, even now those words give me so much relief. As a child, I didn’t understand how he had guessed that I wanted to see my mom, but now I understand it’s what every frightened child wants.

I got downstairs and my mom was sitting on the couch not speaking or moving or doing anything in particular. I jump onto the couch and cuddle next to her. In my mind, she takes forever to say something and I don’t remember asking any questions but after some time she finally says “your dad pushed me last night and now he has to leave” or maybe it was “your dad pushed me last night ao I had to call the police and make him leave” or maybe “your dad pushed me last night and now he’s leaving”. Whatever the words were the ending was the same in my mind; Dad was in trouble and leaving. Eventually, my dad came downstairs with his black duffle bag in hand and a police officer behind him. I don’t remember him saying anything to me but I do remember his eyes as he looked at me. Like he was disappointed beyond measure, I still haven’t managed to figure out who he was disappointed with.

This is the first memory I have of my father, the first real memory I have of my mother, this is the first detail I can recall from my life. This morning, this event. Thinking back I know I have details wrong because I have three siblings and none of them are present this morning, the cop couldn’t have been as large as I felt he was, and the silence from my parents couldn’t have really been so suffocating. Alas, I can’t edit or delete and improve the memory I have. And I refuse to ask because I’ve often found that injecting my memories with details provided by other people only leads to ruin. There are, of course, things I wonder about, like why if he pushed her the night before was he leaving in the morning? Did my mom get a restraining order? Was it her apartment and not their apartment so she could have him removed? They got married when my brother was 2 making me 4 at the time, so was that before or after this morning? These questions mean nothing, ultimately this morning shaped the way I open my bedroom door every morning- with slight wariness.


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