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Since we are putting things out on the table, I would like to share the beginnings of my life as I know it.
I don’t regret a minute of this life of mine. I know that my journey was written even before I was thought of.

A Memory Of Childhood-The Beginning

I remember ONE time, just once. My Mother actually let me lay my head in her lap as she rubbed my hair behind my ear. For what reason? I am not sure at all.  I don't even remember how old I could have been.
All I know is that is the only time that she ever did that.
Let me give you some background on my Mother. At the age of 15, she met a guy (my biological dad) and they dated. I don't know how long they dated or how many times they went out on a date.
The story as I have been told goes like this. ......
My Mother and Jimmie were dating, I suppose. Back in the day, lovers lane was the "IN" thing. Except, in the small town that my mother lived in, there was the Wildlife. Even I, as a teenager went parking there.
What? I parked my boat there as it was one of the few boat landings where folks could put their boats in the water and fish.
There was a very narrow bridge that had to be crossed to get to this area. I remember how scary it was crossing that bridge and looking down at the river and the gravel area surrounding one side of it.

Anyway, back to the story. The story was told that my mother and Jimmie Lee Norris went to this lovers lane, if you will, and parked. Not sure how all this came about, but Jimmie raped my mother. I'm not even sure if she told anybody, until she found out she was pregnant. Yes, I was conceived, not in a passionate moment of love, but in a way that would haunt me and my mother forever.

Upon learning she was pregnant at the young age of 15, my grandmother (which is another story all on it's own) told her how bad she was and that by God she would marry this man. I don't really know if momma loved or hated him. I really don't know.
So, they were married in 1963, I was born in April of 1964, so I would assume I was conceived around August of 1963. I'm not really sure when they were married.

Until a few years ago, I thought me and my mom left him when I was around 6 months old only to find out that we actually stayed with him until I was 4 years old. All my life, I thought, how strange it was that I could remember things about him. Like a bicycle being in our living room and him bringing me candy in a brown paper bag. I learned this after I started trying to make a family tree. (what a joke that has been)

Anyway, Jimmie who is no longer on this earth, was my biological dad. He was very abusive. One of the things, I remember vividly, was him dragging her, by the head of her hair, naked, onto the front porch, which was screened in. He locked her out there. I don't remember anything about anything after that moment.

My Aunt Sylvia would come over every Sat., my mom would roll and fix her hair. This one Sat. Was different as the story goes, aunt Sylvia had cancelled her hair visit that day for some reason or another.
That morning, Jimmie (my dad) locked me and my mom in a room, turned the gas on and left. OMG  What was he thinking? Anyway, for some strange reason aunt Sylvia pulled up as my mother had just opened a window enough to get my head out for fresh air. She saved our lives. An angel sent from above, indeed.

Now, to get back to this memory of my mother rubbing my hair behind my ears. You see, as a child up until very few years ago, I believed my mother hated to look at me.
She was not affectionate, no hugs, no kisses, no wiping away my tears, none of that. She didn't partake in my growing up very much. Of course, she was there, but to me, she was a million miles away.
She was always quick to let me know that, I was a mistake. She had given up her life for me. She would call me "Jimmie Norris" with hate in her eyes. I didn't know why for many years. I was just full of self pity and wanted and needed my mothers love so bad. I truly believe that every time she looked at me, she would see him and the evil spawn that belonged to him.

I have worked thru those feelings of shame and the walls that my mother built between us. We have had conversations a great length about those feelings. It took me until the age of 39 to work them out in my head, because, you see, my mother was in denial. She would not admit that she treated me this way. She would always tell me how ungrateful I was that she had given her whole life up for of me. The only thing I ever wanted was for her to acknowledge my feelings. She did, I don't know if she just gave in for the sake of peace or if she truly understood the way I felt. She said, her mother raised her with no love and that was all she knew. It's a cycle.
I have blocked a lot out from my childhood from my memory. I don't have memories that most folks have. I have none really, except, for feeling so unloved and out of place in this world.

But the one memory that remains is this one time my mother stroked my hair as she let me lay my head on her lap. What a great memory.
The End

My Grandmothers Margaret and Betty Short stories of True life: by Lisa Middlesworth



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