On Being Powerful

(work in progress)

My first memory sitting on the kitchen floor playing in the cupboard under the sink. My words were damn and shit. As a teenager, that same cupboard held all kinds of stuff that was for cleaning, washing and scrubbing.
I cussed………..a lot.

My second memory violence.
between my mother and father. They were fighting and cursing in the bedroom. I was on the top bunk watching. When I started to cry he came over and slapped me. I climbed down the back and ran down the stairs crying.
No one came after me.

My third memory happy playing in the curb (just dirt and rocks as it usually was in the black and poorer sections of the city). I built dams with dirt and rocks and poured water. I watched the water trying to get around my damn. I sometimes extended the damn or I built dams further down the curb. Later my creativity was singled to anthills. I destroyed them and watched them rebuild, always.

My fourth memory: girl scout shoes and brown and blue knee-high socks. I hated the shoes (only shoes that made them big enough) but I loved the socks. I grew fast and my feet indicated that I would be very tall

My fifth memory: eavesdropping
at the top of the stairs at the grandma and her friends talking about heaven and hell. Hell scared the shit out of me. I did not know any better so my teenage years actions were always as to whether hell or heaven was beckoning. Cussing didn't count.