I keep asking myself, will I ever be done with this?

NARROW ESCAPE

“It was a narrow escape,” I think. “You could be her,” I say to my self. And the horrifying consequences of me becoming my sister are known only within my head.

Resonating there inside me are a million little pictures that support the word ‘horrifying’, but I could write all day and you’d never see the half of them. I believe that I am not alone in this.

How many other women drag along behind them a toy wagon full of un-shareable memories? Mine is a Radio Flyer red wagon heaped with pictures of my dysfunctional family.

And as the years have passed, I’ve accumulated more wagons and rusted shopping carts to accommodate the mounting memories. That clanking I hear is the chains that join this bizarre train, that screaking protest is their over loaded wheels.

I’ve forgotten exactly when I tied this antiquated train to myself, but the sturdy rope I used is now frayed. I stop for a moment, straighten up, and the rope falls to my feet.

I narrowly escape my childhood – yet again.