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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1987667
by carol
Rated: E · Monologue · Emotional · #1987667
Finding hope when you think all hope is lost, as seen through the eyes of a child
                                                        Little lost girl found.

         The Christmas tree fell for the second time today.  What is left of the ornaments are now strewn across the floor of the living room.  Most people may find this sad and upsetting, but not me.  I just sit here in the mist of all the debris and laugh.  What a perfect picture of my life, in shambles on the ground.  Little bits and pieces scattered all over the place.  The pain and frustrations of the past 12 years unraveling, like a loose thread slowly pulled from a precious afghan that took so many pain-staking hours to create.
Amazing how something so beautiful can easily end up a pool of nothingness on the floor.  Without any clues to what it once had been, if it ever was anything at all.
          I know why I am so screwed, up who wouldn’t be.  Surviving a childhood filled with so much turmoil, distrust, pain, confusion and heartache.  My family put the word dysfunctional in the dictionary.  Mom an alcoholic for as far back as I can remember and my dad deals with her issues by opening up a bottle of bourbon and joining in on the party.  Unfortunately, for me, dad and bourbon do not mix and I always ended up on the wrong side of his anger.
         I learned very young how to hide the bruises on the outside and to keep the despair I feel locked deep inside my soul.  I have learned how to smile through the pain.  I don’t want my secret to get out.  It would be too embarrassing. 
         I often escape all the chaos and madness unfolding inside the house by climbing the large old magnolia tree in the front yard.  I climb as high as I can with my radio in hand.  My mind whisks me off to a wonderful and amazing fantasy world, to a world where little girls are loved and protected and all the evil doers are slain by prince charming, riding in on his white horse.  I sit in that tree and wait for my hero to come rescue me and take me away to somewhere safe.  But as bad as things are, I have found a little bit of heaven, a sanctuary, my port in the storm, a place much warmer and safer than the branches of my beloved magnolia tree.
         I met someone that has showed me that love and compassion still existed and can be found in a little house on the corner of my own street.  A place were daddies don’t use painful words and the back of their hands on their children to get their point across.  A magical place where moms hugged their kids and daddies sing silly songs to make their children laugh.  A place where kids sit down at the dinner table and are allowed to talk and laugh and be themselves without any fear of retribution.  A place where a kid, can just be a kid.  I found my Wonderland.
         In my whole life, I have never felt as safe as I do when I am in their home.  I sometimes sit off to the side and just watch them in awe and amazement.  I cannot believe how much they love each other.  They are so open, honest, and pure, and I so desperately want to be a part of it.  Well I guess for a little while each day, I am.  because I know that when I am in their home,  I am truly loved , simply for who I am and not for who they think I should be. I know that it is okay to just be a normal little girl with no special talents or unique gifts.  I know that if only for a few hours a day  I am a part of a real family who treasures each other for no other reason than just because and I am a part of that magic, and life for me at least for a little while is good.
         Well I had better get a broom and dustpan before my mom wakes or dad gets home.  When I am done cleaning up this mess, I think I will grab my radio and climb up high in my magnolia tree.  Who knows today may be the day my prince charming will finally find me and take me away.  Hey, a girl can dream can’t she?
         
         

© Copyright 2014 carol (carolthechosen at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1987667