Eleven

Years prior to becoming a mother I was attempting to hold  onto my youth. In this inevitable process of growing out of Barbies dolls, Matchbox cars and discovering music and makeup. Eleven is a lost age really, nothing to set it apart. A moment in the overall assemblage of other life moments. You’re reaching for a new identity. One of theoretical adulthood, but really you are a barely at the cusp of being a preteen, still comfortably reliant on the interests of your youth. One hot and typical Texas summer morning after a friend had slept over, she and I decided to take my dog for a walk in the neighborhood. We had been cutting up shirts to make them more fashionable while my parents were at work, you will excuse us as it was of course the late 80’s. Just a few blocks from my house a van slowed beside us. It contained several young men making comments, most of which our adolescent minds couldn’t interpret. Continuing to follow us, we made our way behind some houses to avoid them. Once back home we went up stairs to finish our projects. Minutes later there was a knock on the front door, opening it a guy stood before me with only a passable recognition. It was one of the guys from the van requesting to come in. Telling him he needed to leave I shut the door and preceded to go back upstairs thinking I had locked the door behind me. Unbeknownst to me he entered and locked my dog outside. Just as I got to my room he pushed me towards my daybed and flipped me over. He never really spoke. The only strength I could muster allowed me to yell, “Stop!”. Attempting to keep his hands from completely pulling my clothing off, I avoided looking at him directly. I was scared, but my inexperience didn’t grant me the full knowledge of what I was fearing. Suddenly, my friend came running in from the adjacent bathroom with scissors in hand. He flew out the room, down the stairs, and out the door. Left sore and shaking I pulled my shirt back on straight and called my sister. She and her boyfriend drove back over and went looking for him but he was long gone by the time they had arrived. When my parents came home that evening, we went to the Police station and they eventually were able to locate the guy. We then filed a report and they implemented a restraining order. The moment was to be filed away somewhere in my mind to never be discussed again.

As I am much older now and the world has changed, I can see that it isn’t always beneficial to swiftly deal with it and move on. I grew up significantly that day. More than I realized at the time. There was a deep shift in my self awareness, I sunk further into a hole of contrition and repression.