We went to my parents’ house today. We had to see my father for the house floor plans. It’s this thing the Mister and I have been working on for about three years now. I had forgotten why I stopped wanting to go back. But I remember so very clearly now. My entire family refreshed my memory.
And it’s something I wish I could never remember, but you know my mind simply refuses to forget. The harder I try to forget, the more vividly the memories stir inside my head creating this pocket of pain that pulls me down the drain. I am propelled by emotion. It’s stupid.
It’s stupid to care because I’m the only one who does. I could disappear from the face of the earth and they would not miss my existence. I am a long forgotten photograph yellowing with age in some dark damp drawer that nobody opens.
And because I felt like a stranger in the house I grew up in, I sat by steps of the back door with Chachi our dog. I sat like I did a hundred times before. I sat on the top step with my back resting against the railing, facing the wall with the dearest dog by my right arm. I could smell the dog scent, and the glorious feel of fur against my arm and hand.
That fur, that dog – used to be James, and then it was Whitney, and now, Chachi. And always, from when I was little, I used to sit by those steps and rub the dog sitting next to me until I felt like I belonged. And it dawned on me how sad my life is, that I had a family who made me feel that I was so different – completely odd- that only my pet could make me feel better.
And I felt so sad that I had given up years of my life trying to be normal the way they said I should be, but now I am still the odd one out. I should have known better. I am different, and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not my fault they’re all the same. And just like in highschool, I can’t make them see me if they refuse to look at me. But it hurts. And I was unprepared for the ache. I wish to simply not care. But it aches to know that I don’t belong. It hurts to see that I have fallen from their tree. I still find it so unbelievable after all this time.
What’s worse is that I’ve always known this. From the day I sat next to James and felt better, I have known that I could not seek comfort from that family because I was so very different. So I don’t understand where this hurt is coming from. I don’t understand why I want to feel like a daughter so bad when I never was. I mean, I sort of understand that a daughter is so precious, seeing as we almost had one, but when I think about it now, I don’t know what it means to be one. I want to know why they treat me so differently – making it clear that I don’t belong.
I miss my dog days. On the other hand, I am so grateful I have this Mister who takes care of me and fights with me and makes me laugh and makes me cry so that I don’t have to live with them anymore and sit with dogs everytime I feel bad.
Ali Undone 