This I Remember, This I Believe
The sirens were loud, and then I saw the police pulling into a driveway. My driveway. At that point the continuous crash against my garage door had ended. My mother’s worried face, my brother’s scared and dazed style, and my sister’s calm yet afraid character are all vivid memories from that day. I could only guess it was bad. I remember this.
I was about six years old when my parents told me they were getting divorced. Only a couple days later, my father went beserk. He was screaming at my mother and soon after, my mother gathered my sister, brother and I and locked all the doors to the house. Then she called the police. The bashing of my garage door then started. I remember this.
When the cops pulled up, the garage door was in shambles. But the man had run. My mother then took my brother, sister and I and, together, we ran outside. The person that had been at our garage door, I used to know. But not any longer. Now, my father is only a memory of the man I used to know. I remember this.
The cops checked the premises of my house and thought my father had run. They were wrong. But they left. My mother quickly told us to get our things and we headed down the street to my godmother’s house. I, along with everyone else, was scared. The next day, we went home only to find some of the inside of the house pulverized. My dad had come back. At this point, I could have fainted. I remember this.
Over time things healed. Now I am leading a good life. My dad has moved away and I have a great step-dad and mother. I also have four great sisters and one great brother and great friends, too. I feel I wil be happy and healthy for the rest of my life. This makes me feel like no matter how bad things get, it WILL get better. And this, I BELIEVE, and this, I remember.
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