Though there was fighting and strife, it was not all bad. I have good memories too. And I am sure there were good times between my parents was well. Like, I said before, this is the way I remember it. A person's memory may not always be accurate. But I do remember the way I felt.
I was sad a lot as a child. I was lonely. I was scared. I never knew where my daddy was going to be or if he was going to come back.
I have lots of memories of watching my daddy drive away from where we were living at the time and wondering if I'd get to see him again.
I know that most of the fights were not about me directly. But I almost always felt like they were my fault. I thought that daddy was leaving because I did something wrong and I tried to be better so he would come back again.
I started attending the Head Start program in Minot, ND. I enjoyed the bus ride there. I really liked playing with other kids. But I especially remember my teacher, Ramona Arneson. I remember her smile and her hugs. She made me feel safe. The director of the program at the time was Cheryl Ekblad. A few years ago, Cheryl told me that I reminded her of a porcelain doll. I was pale but had very black hair. She said that I was a sweetheart. I remember many things about my days in Head Start. I especially remember my graduation program. I remember wearing my purple hat (which I still have in my trunk) and watching the video play of Whitney Houston singing "The Greatest Love of All."
A few years ago, I had the honor and privilege of telling my Head Start teacher, Ramona Arneson, thank you. I brought my pictures and my memories and was able to tell her about the difference she made in my life.
It was at Head Start that I learned that school could be a safe place for me. I learned that there were other people who were genuinely concerned for me and would help me. Head Start not only helped me during this time in my life, they also helped my mom as well.
I will be forever grateful for the ones who showed me great love when I needed it most.
No comments:
Post a Comment