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saitainaless then a week before I turn twenty-six.
I sit here, thinking of how time has changed in that time, and I realized...my baby sister turns 15 this coming Febuary.
Fifteen. When I was fifteen I was in Elmira, living literally the best years of my high school career, in 'love' with the hottest guy in school, running for class secretary, debating weither to major in theatre or archeology in college, and discovering that term called 'popularity'.
Fifteen...I haven't seen her since she was SIX. To me, my baby sister is still that smiling, brown haired child that annoyingly trailed after me and copied everything I did.
There's still so much I want to tell her. Does he know that madness is genetic in our family? What do to if she inherited dad's temper and violent tendancies. I want to tell her about her Grandmother, Grandfather and Uncle, none of whom she really knows. I want to share with her the stories of dad before he lost control, of the family we were before he forgot he had a previous family, how I held her when she was born and saw nothing more beautiful or perfect then her (and how she wouldn't eat unless I ate with her...gerber plums are actually pretty good).
She was one years old when I moved to Oregon. I only saw her a handful of times after that...I never imagined it would hurt this much to lose her. I know she lives somewhere in Iowa, I just don't know WHERE and I would give anything to know that.
I miss him, too. My father, the man who shaped who I am by the very genetics in me. I know he's a bastard, I have enough memories and stories to know this...but he's still my DADDY. I just want to see him one last time...to tell him it's okay...that I survived. I think it scared him, when he saw himself in me. The anger, the agression, the temper. But I learned to control it, I learned to care for others around me. I broke the cycle of lying and pain. And I want him to know that. I want to show him he didn't doom me to his life.
I want them to know me NOW, and not just remember the scared, angry seventeen year old I was when I last saw them.
Daddy, Christina, Irene...I miss you.
I sit here, thinking of how time has changed in that time, and I realized...my baby sister turns 15 this coming Febuary.
Fifteen. When I was fifteen I was in Elmira, living literally the best years of my high school career, in 'love' with the hottest guy in school, running for class secretary, debating weither to major in theatre or archeology in college, and discovering that term called 'popularity'.
Fifteen...I haven't seen her since she was SIX. To me, my baby sister is still that smiling, brown haired child that annoyingly trailed after me and copied everything I did.
There's still so much I want to tell her. Does he know that madness is genetic in our family? What do to if she inherited dad's temper and violent tendancies. I want to tell her about her Grandmother, Grandfather and Uncle, none of whom she really knows. I want to share with her the stories of dad before he lost control, of the family we were before he forgot he had a previous family, how I held her when she was born and saw nothing more beautiful or perfect then her (and how she wouldn't eat unless I ate with her...gerber plums are actually pretty good).
She was one years old when I moved to Oregon. I only saw her a handful of times after that...I never imagined it would hurt this much to lose her. I know she lives somewhere in Iowa, I just don't know WHERE and I would give anything to know that.
I miss him, too. My father, the man who shaped who I am by the very genetics in me. I know he's a bastard, I have enough memories and stories to know this...but he's still my DADDY. I just want to see him one last time...to tell him it's okay...that I survived. I think it scared him, when he saw himself in me. The anger, the agression, the temper. But I learned to control it, I learned to care for others around me. I broke the cycle of lying and pain. And I want him to know that. I want to show him he didn't doom me to his life.
I want them to know me NOW, and not just remember the scared, angry seventeen year old I was when I last saw them.
Daddy, Christina, Irene...I miss you.
