As I Remember, I Cry

I live incredibly close to the home I grew up in. I live so close to it, I can see it from my living room windows.

The other day, I saw my mom pull up in her driveway. I watched as she began to take her grocery bags out of her trunk and into her house. As is the trend, my dad followed her back outside to grab up the rest of the groceries with her, and back into the house they went.

My mind spun as I remembered being on the other side of that house door. A small girl, I watched the kitchen fill up with things for meals and snacks. I remember digging through those bags to find what she bought for me. What kind of treat would I uncover?

And as I remember, I cry.

God, I WANT to remember!

So much of my childhood...gone.

I don't remember a lot of it because it was in those young, innocent, just beginning to live years that my very first trauma happened to me. Someone I trusted stole my innocence from me. And I hated it. I hated it so much, I buried it deep.

God, I WANT to remember the good and the mundane and the ridiculous and the fun.

And maybe that's why He's brought me here. So close to where I grew. Also, so close to where my innocence was lost. In my new home, I can look out one window and see family and out another I see pain. My house sits on a crossroads of sorts.

Maybe being here will help me remember that small girl. Maybe being here will help me heal.

God, I WANT to remember...


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