What thoughts race through your mind when you hear the word ‘Summer’?

The splish splash of cannon balls into the deep blue,
The twinkling of stars that sprinkle the clear dark night,
The butterflies fluttering in your stomach when a cute boy ambles by,
The ability to lose track of time and not agonize about what tomorrow may hold.

When I think about ‘Summer’,
I relive the fiendish memories that delve black holes deep within my brain.
An overflow of anxiety and depression resurface.
The drowning sound of tears, screams, and arguments infuse my ears.
My heart breaks all over again.

When I think about ‘Summer’,
Time rewinds to August 2009.
I lived on 3613 Franor Street in Alton, Illinois.
With no electricity and the hellish heat smuggling its way inside
The aroma of cat pee and molded food infuses the entire house.

With three weeks until school started,
My mom instructed me to pack everything I could shove into a little black bookbag.
As she was rocking back and forth on our torn pee stained kitchen chair,
The scribbling sound of the pen brushed against the crinkled paper.
“What are you writing?” I questioned.

I was nine years old.
Sandy blonde hair,
Bright blue eyes,
And wiser than every other 5th grader on the block.
Blessed with the gift of discernment, I felt the vibrations of worry close in on me.

“Just a letter,” she rushed.
Physically she was there with me,
Sitting at the clustered dining room table.
Mentally she was in a world a thousand miles away from this place called earth.

Months trudge by
That “Just a letter”  was her letter of riddance to my father.
Within this never ending period of heartache and anger,
A veil was lifted from my eyes.

My mother was no longer the perfect woman I held so dearly to my heart.
She wreaked of alcohol and stale cigarettes.
Her bright blue eyes,
Now a dull grey.
Her angelic persona
Dissipated along with my outlook on the world.

My father was no longer the beast I thought hated me.
He smelled of Usher Vegas cologne and spearmint gum.
His booming brown eyes,
Now glistened from tears and tint of green.
His vibrant personality
Now broken
And my heart shattered too.

When I think of the word ‘Summer’,
I remember the childhood I never had.
The tears plummeting down my cheeks,
Hiding my siblings and I in the closet as grandpa catapulted malicious words and violent threats,
Screaming in my mother’s face,
Wailing “God please help me!”

When I think of the word ‘Summer’,
I recall the lessons I learned,
The patience I procured,
And the wisdom I gained.