Well, Liv and I are all packed. We leave bright and early tomorrow to go to the little town where I grew up in Iowa. I think it has been about two years since I've been back.
Funny...I used to always call it home but now...absolutely not. Home is Bing. My little town is more like...that place where I grew up and couldn't wait to leave.
It's always hard for me, although I am so old now that I am no longer seen as that Last Name girl who broke her mother's heart by going lesbian. I swear, my mother felt like she could barely hold her head up when word got out that Maria had went girl gone wild and was not only living in sin...but living in sin with a.....GASP...woman!
After my mother died and I would go back to visit my other sisters, Jessie and Celia, there would always be the stares from mostly older women. It is a very small town and my mother was one of the saints in her church, always coming in and volunteering to dust the pews, always saw that there were fresh flowers on the altar. Word spreads like wildfire in a small town and I think she found it very hard to bear the shame of having one of her girls turn into what, in her eyes, was right next door to Satan worship.
Now, I go and no one really remembers me, but I still sometimes feel like Boo Radley.
Liv, as far as I know, just enjoys herself with her cousins.
But me? It's hard, difficult. The farm has long been sold, but sometimes we drive out to see how it's doing and when we pull in that driveway, my stomach goes a little tight. The last time I was in that house was when my mother stood at the back door holding it open wide and telling me that she would never allow me back in and to get out THIS INSTANT!
Her last words to me at that door were: "I will never forgive you for shaming me like this. Don't even think about coming back until you go to the priest and beg for forgiveness. Make a penance for your sins."
So, instead of remembering the sweet smell of alfalfa and the wonderful times with my family as I grew up, I just see that door and me stumbling out of it, tears blinding me.
But, I visit. I visit. And each time, it hurts less. But, I never can really forget it, you know? And I know it sounds stubborn and headstrong...but there is this part of me that just wants to show everyone that...that...that...
I DID NOT BACK DOWN.
That I kept my head up and lived my life as well as I could and that I think I did pretty well for myself.
But, on Monday...when Liv and I head back....there will be a small part of me that is glad to have it behind me. But, I will also look out the rear view window as my little town grows smaller and smaller and I will remember dancing with my sisters, wearing dish towels on our heads and singing,
Dominique....inique....iniquen.
And my first kiss. My first date. My good grades. Riding on the bus to the away football games. Prom. My high school friends. Sunday dinners with my family.
Da.
But, for now...chin up. Time to go visit my sisters. I want Liv to know her family and I want to show that I'm still standing.
Better than I ever was.....Be back Monday evening.....have a great weekend.
Wish me luck?
18 comments:
Good luck Maria!
I know one thing for sure. I realize you may not believe this, but since your mom was a Christian it is true for her, as soon as she entered her heaven all the truth was given to her, and she weaped for what she did to you!!
Believe that!
You can visit, however, you can never go back.
Personally, I've found that every return visit to where Rhonda and I grew up was always more and more disappointing. So much so that when her brother visited this week and discussion during afternoon tea got round to where we grew up I told them both that (having visited there recently on a trip to Sydney)they definitely should not go back as what they will see will only upset them.
Hold the good memories - not the dark memories!
Duh!! Just as I am hitting send I realized my brain fart. I ment to type wept...I think I'm just a little tired :/
Going home, bittersweet for me too. Though now I really can't go home again. The houses I spent my growing up years in are old and shabby now, owned and lived in by families I don't know and who didn't know me. The home my parents bought after I left was sold a few years before my father died, and the apartment he lived in until his death just over two years ago has been rented to someone new. My parents are buried in a town 60 miles away. Nothing remains of "family" in the old home town, neither does the big four-story elementary school that was old when I went there, nor the movie theater, nor many of the little downtown stores. It is a dusty small prarie town now, growing old with the inhabitants that remain, it's glory days long since faded. All that remains are memories... innocent and happy, bitter and painful, just like yours. When I left I was well known as an outcast, an embarassment to my middle class family. Very few remember me now, and it is no longer home. But the land is, the land is in my blood and bones and Dakota will always be where I come from, then land of my heritage, the place I call home. I truly hope you and Liv have a wonderful time sharing old and new memories. You are right, you have reason to hold your head high, you stood strong for who and what you are and you did your family proud. Maybe, just maybe, your mother understands that now.
Best of luck!
You know, though, that there are women who definitely look at you with envy in that town; wishing they had the balls to be themselves.
Hoping this visit, like so much lately, brings u healing.
Zc
Good luck, Maria and godspeed. It's very hard to fathom such cruelty from ones own parent, but since I have also experienced treatment which is hard to equate with parental love, my heart hurts for your sad memories.
You have more than proved that you are still standing, and deserve to be very proud of yourself and your many accomplishments. Perhaps the greatest of these is your lack of bitterness.
Argh! May you go with no expectations, spend a few days being pleasantly surprised, and have a very special trip. WISHING YOU LUCK!
Have a great trip Maria and all the very best to you, Liv and Bing. Looking forward to great reunion stories.
So much emotion in this post. I just wish you Maria lots of love and luck as this weekend passes and that Liv only gets joy from being with her cousins and on this visit to Iowa. Great time to you both. :)
So much emotion in this post. I just wish you Maria lots of love and luck as this weekend passes and that Liv only gets joy from being with her cousins and on this visit to Iowa. Great time to you both. :)
A different era, with different expectations. Only you have the power to review the past with empathy for the fear your Mother felt. Live in the moment, which by all accounts seems pretty awesome when I read your posts. Quit wallowing!
You don't need luck, Maria. You've got this.
You don't need luck darlin'.
Love knowing that you were just a few miles away from me this weekend. Sorry the weather sucked, but good thing the bridges offer shelter.
Love knowing that you were just a few miles away from me this weekend. Sorry the weather sucked, but good thing the bridges offer shelter.
I'm so sorry that you carry that heartbreak.
I live in the house that I grew up in, but my family is fractured and nearly broken, we don't talk to each other much.
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