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A fire and the box

I remember being in a crib,doing stuff babies do you know…Mom came in with a box which seemed soooo huge or I was just tiny.Apparently someone gave me a gift.It contained all sorts of sweets (anyone remembers those chocolate umbrellas?),toys (personal fav. was : little red and blue ironing set),light blue potty with a duck print on the back and some miscellaneous things which I don’t remember quite exactly.Anyway that day I was so happy,mother took all of the things out of the box and placed them inside of the crib with me (I used to have a photo of that moment but it is currently lost).I was really utterly happy.That was probably the most happiest moment I had a pleasure to experience at that young age.

My dad had aggressive,drunk fit that day.He came to the room that we were in, took most of the stuff back in a box (only light blue potty survived for the years after) and threw it in the fire.Mom explained me that situation as a jealousy.He couldn’t stand it so he threw it away.When I think now about it I don’t see any other logical explanation neither.

That was a hell of a day,we ended up sleeping in a room¬† with a locked door and a knife under our pillow,basically best day of my life turned to a life long trauma ,neat…

One thought on “A fire and the box”

  1. This is so compelling. I am so very sorry your life has been so hard. I understand your name…..the flower that grows out of mud and muck. You are beautiful. God bless you.

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