If Only For a Night

5:06 PM. The last day of summer. Finally situated at acoffee shop table. It’s out of place for someone to be enjoying the last day ofsummer in here, instead of out there.

Things should be exciting. I’m taking a little break fromthe campus where it happened, in a new part of the city. We celebrated lovelast weekend with a wedding we planned for family in times of need together. Wegot a house together for me to start this new chapter. Even though I am closewith you, I still feel detached by miles away.

I’ve come to this before. But the answer for how to talk toyou and feel like the daughter I once was around you still hasn’t come to me.Not even after four years. I just know that I had to leave the physical andmental space, and breathe a bit, on my own.

Some things you had said, that you may not realize theimpact on me. Is it your Eastern upbringing and culture? Is it your way ofexpressing suggestions or care for me? As a person, I do ultimately and instinctivelylook for good and know of your loving intentions. But sometimes I don’t hearyou. I hear someone else.

“You need to straighten your hair; the wavy hair doesn’t lookas good.” You say when the humidity is up, and the hair is the least of myconcerns lugging around boxes. “I really don’t want you having anythingFlorence and the Machine related at your wedding.” You say when you bring upyour excitement about when I will get married as we plan my cousin’s wedding. “Aren’tyou glad I’m trying to help you?” You say when I get stressed.

You know I’ve always been sensitive, but I hold onto thingsthat were said to me as a result of the trauma (He didn’t like my wild andcarefree wavy hair. He did tell me Florence was a bit too ‘eccentric,’ yet saidshe was amazing, and I should be listening to it only with him. He said wordslike how I just had to be only grateful, even going as far to say that no oneelse could help or love me like he did. This was all during times of grief andstress as I was a newly independent individual as a naïve college freshman. No,not even naïve. More like, an adapting freshman).

Yes, when your mother, my grandmother, our woman, passedaway in 2015, did he use my grief to take advantage of me. Another grandparentwho you looked up to as a second father (dad’s dad) also left that year too,and that only made his choice to take advantage of me be even worse than youcan imagine. I need to say this again to not only come to terms with it again,but for me to know I don’t deserve this. With me as your daughter, and me as thegranddaughter, that does not make you, or our late grandparents deserve iteither. You are allowed to hurt, even with me if you want. Things have been sobusy lately and I think I want you to know you have that space to. Will you? Iwill let you choose because you are my mother and I love you. You’re allowed tohave the power and control to make choices for yourself.

I lost control of everything. And, unfortunately, I feellike I am losing control of who I can be again. This move is stressful, but Ijust had to leave the house and say I had an outing. You insisted on helpingand taking control of hundreds of small details like how the bed should be setup and made, for example. As minor as that sounds, nothing hurts me more thanhaving my power for setting up who I am taken away like that again.

I haven’t typically written out what I feel in order to bring me back to the present, but I’m going to keep going here. The reason that it’s never happened is I am terrified that it’s out there for me to directly see it again and open up that door to where I was hurt. Memories can’t be erased though; you never really forget things. However, you as my mother never really spoke with me extensively about what happened and whether you still grieve at times. But I can see if drumming away my fingers on the keyboard can maybe help me at least feel heard.

I love you all, my family, so much.

I’m going to bring light to the darkness that I was putthrough. I am going to keep light in my life aside from being afraid of thedark. I’m confronting this.

I decide to put on an artist I recently rediscovered, SleepingAt Last on to bring the vigor and stamina into me in addition to groundingme. I find an EP, titled Senses, which seemed promising to ground mehere and now. I quickly checked if it was released in 2015, the traumatic timeof the abuse and her death of many others as well. 2016, good. I don’t want tothink of where I could’ve been by hearing music and passion that peoplepublished during that time. Most of the time, radio music from 2015 also bothersme. Is it selfish of me to have this be something for me? No, it’s just one ofthe many things I have to do to feel protected.

Touch plays. Taste plays. Smell plays.All help me not only recognize I can use these senses one-by-one to bring meback into the present, but remind me of how I’m recognizing things because thelyrics tell me I can and it’s OK for me to be where I am. I can find someone totouch me lovingly and bring me joy. I deserve the potential joy and love I knowI can receive in the future. Not everyone will be like him. But it’s OK for meto start recognizing that now by feeling the icy condensation on my drink. Thentaste the sweet bitterness of my latte. Then smell the burnt coffee beansnearby.

Hearing then plays. I just lean back and listen tothe bells. The strings. The piano. This all echoes, and I’m swallowed up. Idon’t think I have a simpler way to put it for you. I know you’ll understandthough. Like I said, I want to be heard.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I see my phone lightsup. “You can make ur [sic] bed. Don’t worry about it, I know you can do it allyourself.”

I then let Sight play and relish in the burden ofhaving the heart I have, and the times later that it will only grow more, allwhile seeing your text appear on my screen. But I’m starting now, being in thepresent, with the icy drink in my hand, the bitter taste and smell of thecoffee beans around. And with the soaring music and the emerald green light ofthe Starbucks logo to tell me I’m not back in 2015 again.

Listen to playlists this author put together on Spotify. Playlist 1 is here and Playlist 2 is here.