ConqueredbyLove

Carefree days in the Southern California sun are some of my first memories. There was the joy of playing kick-the-can until 9 PM in the evening in summer when it finally got dark.

Living in the foothills of Pasadena, it was not uncommon to find me climbing the firebreaks. But even more fun was running. Oh, I was lightening fast. I always beat Jimmy my first boyfriend in a dash and, lo and behold, I won the Blue Ribbon in the 50 yard dash at the Junior Olympics! I was quite the athlete and cared much more about tomboyish type adventures than dolls and all that fluffy stuff.

My parents put in an inground pool, one of the first in our suburban neigborhood. This was an occasion for early childhood glee and pride but, alas, the cloud of darkness was already hovering over my tender young soul.

Something was wrong, oh so very wrong. Isolation was serving to protect me, as confusion and fear began troubling my tender young heart.

Why did the neigborhood children not want to come over much to swim in our pool? Why was I beginning to feel different even as a young child?

Whap! The knife hit the wall instead of my arm as my father flung it at me across the kitchen table during dinner time. I had put my arm on the table instead of in my lap.

With absolute hatred in his eyes, he grabbed my chin and put the duck tape over my mouth because I was making too much noise with my childhood laughter. Hatred, pure hatred in my father's eyes. Oh, how often I saw that hatred.

Something was wrong...So terribly wrong...