Saturday, February 4, 2017

Why Homes Have Doors

I have always said time and time again, "there is a reason why homes have doors" it is not only to use as a form of protection, but it goes farther then that. It is a form of secrecy of what really goes on beyond the outside world.

The wife that suffers domestic violence when the doors are closed yet when she steps outside to face the world she covers the bruising, the black and blue punches from her husband, the swollen lips yet she portrays so easily a blissful marriage and loving husband. The man who is viewed by his neighbors as husband material and a real catch yet, when he closes the door to the outside world he becomes that drunk no one ever sees.

The child that plays outside filling the world with his laughter yet, when he steps inside closing the door behind him his greatest fear erupts like a volcano, he faces yet another night of abuse and molestation.

Many call this their "secret world" a world that is filled with fear and loathing of ever being with their loved ones, fear of being alone, the fear of being a child in a family that you just hate from the very depths of their own soul. For me, I dreamed and wished I could close my doors of my home leaving Savi outside to face the world that she created for herself often dragging me down with her. No matter the amount of punches, kicks, or screams I did, because she was a minor, I was stuck with her.

Bring the moving truck

I found it just daunting and shocking that someone who was a minor had been told how much power she really had over me. I who was the parent of a wicked minor, a minor that I bore from my very body could run my life when in fact I should be running my life. If Savi felt I was doing something wrong, she immediately got on the phone and readjusted everything in the home including myself in a negative way.

After I threw out her things that now laid strewn all over the front lawn I was mixed with such emotions. Part of me wanted to go and gather her things and bring them back into the house, hang up her clothes and remake her bed then filling her room with blooming flowers from my backyard. Yet, there was that other side of me that kept screaming in my head, "who cares, serves her right, the way that she treated you, she deserves what she gets"

I just paced and paced struggling with the idea that her things were outside. I had no idea why I feared so much of her hating me more than what she already did. I prayed that when she was brought home from Cassandra and Phillip she would see her things laid out and suddenly snap into reality and beg me for my forgiveness. I then would run to her telling her through countless sobbing how I loved her and wanted her in my life forever.

I remember pacing back and forth most of the night watching each car that passed by yet no Savi. If I were to count how many steps I had taken, I would of guessed I would of been in Los Angeles by now. Finally I gave up and just went to bed crying myself to sleep as I normally did. The pain was gut wrenching, it ached all through my body, my face now burned from the redness while the salty tears fell.

When morning hit all of her clothing was soaking wet from the morning sprinklers and she still was not home. I went against what I wanted to do and gathered her things outside taking them into the washing machine washing off the mud and dirt. After the load was washed and dried, I folded them up and called my mom sharing what I did. Of course she had the same thought as me and she was also not surprised at her grand daughters behavior at the lawyers office.

It was always the same conversation with my mom and dad asking me why I am so surprised at her behavior and it was always the same answer from me, "I just have that fragment of hope she will wake up one day and realize what she's doing." But it was still the same answer from my parents, "you better wake up and realize she is not going to change anything about her." That fragment of hope is now gone.

My mom told me to stick to my guns and pack up her things and to finally get rid of her. She was even more shocked that doctors and lawyers told her that she was an emancipated adult and she can make all the decisions of her life without any interference from me or anyone else. Hell, she didn't have the right to vote, buy booze, drive a car, but she was supposedly an adult.

My brother of course had a different view, "tough love, that's the best thing for her" it was so easy for so many to sit back and scream their advice and if they were in my shoes, I think they would of been just as confused along with feeling stuck no where to turn or go.

While folding her clothes there was a knock on the front door. Was it Savi, did she return to me? As I made my way to the front door the voices in my head began screaming so loudly I couldn't even hear the television that was blaring, "remember, tough love, remember, she screwed you over, remember, she embarrassed you to no end, remember, she hates you!"

There was a man standing on the front porch holding a bouquet of flowers in a glass bowl, "Hi, is your name Dee?" he asked. I told him yes and he then asked me to sign for the floral delivery. I asked who it was from and he told me after flipping page after page then finding the name;

"A Cassandra and Phillip" he said. I gave him back the clipboard and told him with my snarling growl to return the flowers that I did not want them. He gladly took the clipboard and left my front porch. Imagine trying to make up with me after what they did. She took my own daughter and used her against me for her own gain for a baby. Hours had passed and no return of Savi. Sara went to school and Felix came to get Sela for the day leaving me with nothing to do but sit and think about everything that happened during the past four months.

I knew I was driving myself crazy so I decided to go to the local mall and just wander around the store to think about yet still my crazy mixed up life. I remember I was about to leave when my landline rang. Back in those days we didn't have caller ID so I of course picked up the phone.

"Hello."

"Please don't hang up." It was Cassandra.

"Why shouldn't I hang up on you Cassandra, tell me, I'm curious, tell me why I shouldn't I want to know. You have my own daughter working against me more than what she already was. It was a horrible thing to ever do to a mother." I remember how I just began to cry and cry all over again.