When I think back,
All I remember:
A cold January night,
My dance teacher pulling me aside
Towards the end of class,
The neighbor showing up to pick me up,
Entering my house: empty
To get what I need for the night.
Little time wasted.
I remember seeing
Blood and broken glass
Blood and broken glass.
I wasn’t there,
Yet, looking back, it feels like I was.
The ambulance. The police.
Lights. Lots of lights
Chaos. Frightening chaos.
Yelling. Unintelligible.
I see all this in memory,
See it, hear it, feel it.
But I know I never saw it.
I don’t remember fear,
But maybe it was present.
I was young.
8 years old.
8 years old.
My brother is different.
I don’t remember not knowing that.
My brother is dangerous.
Maybe I knew that.
But that night?
That night I knew for sure.
Is it possible to love and fear something?
Someone?
Sibling relationships,
Close, but broken.
Blood and broken glass.