Haunting

I don't remember how old I was but I was a little girl. I was a scared girl. I was a sad girl. Donny Jackson has a poem called Sad Girls. See that poem. I was a sad girl like that. My grandmother lived around the corner from my family. My immediate family was my father, my mother, my sister and me. Sometimes my father was there and sometimes he wasn't. Until one day he wasn't ever there. But I always loved him. Even when he wasn't there. Because he was somewhere. Just not there. Because sometimes a man and a woman grow apart. My grandmother used to babysit my sister and me. One day I walked into her living room to sit on the couch with the plastic cover and my grandmother thought it was a funny thing to tell me my father was going to spend eternity in hell with the devil. I don't know about you but I believed in the devil when I was a little girl. I still do. Just not in the same way. She laughed a good good belly laugh when she said that he was going to call my name and beg for water but I would not be able to give it to him because you cannot give people in hell water. They belong to the devil. I was haunted by the image of my father burning in hell with the devil. I was haunted by the thought my father would beg me for anything that I would have to say no to. I am still haunted by the memory of my grandmother thinking that was funny. Secrets are fattening. Secrets kill and haunt. Hurtful memories are hurtful until they are set free. Free. Free as a kite. My father taught me to fly a kite when I was a little girl. We walked together to J & J Market and I picked out a red one. Red has always been my favorite color. There was so much string. The string reached to the sky. The kite touched the clouds. The same father who taught me to fly a kite could not be the same father who would live with the devil and beg me for water. The same grandmother who made the best carrot cake in the world should not be the same grandmother who teased me about my father living with the devil and burning forever. Forever. Memories are deadly until they are released. Tied on a string and set loose in the sky.