I Didn't Know She Knew

This is my response to a  prompt from Write on Edge. I have several memories that I could have written about but most I can't put on paper at this time. This is the one I felt I needed to write about for now.

This week we asked you to explore your worst memory.

What was it? How did it affect you? What would you have done differently, if anything? We wanted you to imagine the act of writing it would free you from it.
Some of you have memories too personal to share. We understand, and we are grateful for those who are sharing with us.We are a supportive community here, and I am sure that will continue as we read and comment on your pieces.

She told me she remembered. I didn’t know she knew.

My daughter shared with me about the time she sat outside the bathroom door crying. Me, I was inside in a bathtub full of water. The door locked, the water hot, the steam billowing up, the mirror fogged.

I longed for another place and time. I wasn’t sure where that place and time was but I didn’t want to be there.

I longed to disappear into the air just like the steam. Invisibility would be best for me.

How heartbroken I was the day she told me she knew why I was in that room of despair and defeat.

I admitted that her fear was real. I did not want to go on. I lay in that tub contemplating if I could actually do it. Time lingered on and she said she waited. She knocked. I don’t remember. She asked me if she could come in. I don’t remember. Memory slips during depression. I do remember  why I didn't do it. She and her little brother were my reason for living.

My little girl was frightened she would lose her mommy that day and I was unaware of it. The memory of that day is vague but the memory of her tears as she recalled how scared she was at the time is fresh in my mind and heart. I am sorry for the pain I caused but I am thankful she finally shared it with me just a few years ago. We found opening up, being real and transparent is when healing begins.

My beautiful daughter is now 27 years old, a middle school teacher and in the process of working on her doctorate two nights a week. I am proud of what she has accomplished but I am in awe of who she is becoming. And I know hard experiences like this one helped make her the strong, compassionate woman she is today.

As for me I have found my identity and finally realized God's love for me is real and alive inside my soul. This is the truth that makes me whole. Does depression ever creep up on me sometimes? Yes but I know truth. I take meds. I have friends and family who know where I've been, some have been there too, and they accept me anyway. This keeps me sane.

30 Days of Shamelessness, a challenge from Lance My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.

I am not ashamed that I like the television show Little House on the Prairie. It was one of my favorites growing up.

Me, brother, Mama and Daddy would eat dinner and gather in the living room for television almost every night. My brother and I laid two kitchen chairs down with the backs propped up like a ladder and used then as a contraption to lay on in the floor. No remote in those days kept one of us close to the TV set so we could change it to one of the 7 local channels. If my memory serves correct Channel 2 hosted Little House on the Prairie.

 I loved Mary Ingalls. As a child I thought she was  beautiful with her blond hair and blue eyes, a far cry from my mousy brown hair and hazel eyes. She inspired me for many years as she became blind, got married, became a teacher, had a baby, lost the baby and still carried on through crisis after crisis.

I might have been in love with Charles Ingalls for a few years. He was gorgeous, strong and took wonderful care of his family. I always saw him as the hero all the years I watched. And I saw him cry. When Charles cried I cried. It never failed. That man could bring me to tears then an can bring me to tears now as I watch reruns. I love him still.

Although Laura was the main character of the show and I liked her somewhat she just never floated my boat. I'm not a tomboy type and she was. She could be on the whiny side and I don't like whiny, unless it's me that's whiny. One thing I did enjoy was her relationship with Pa. It reminded me of my relationship with my dad. He would have done anything to protect his little girl and she loved him to the ends of the earth. Same with me and my dad. I miss him.

Nellie, Willie, and Mrs Olson I disliked  because even as a child I could not stand to see the materially privileged hold their wealth over the heads of the less fortunate. Truth is the Ingalls were more fortunate in many ways as they had love, acceptance, truth, faith, kindness and real true heart. They never even knew they were missing anything. Where love abounds there is wholeness.

OK so I like Little House On the Prairie and I am not ashamed of it. What are some of your old favorites? Come now don't be ashamed tell me.