WHERE's MY KEY?

When I was 6 years old, my mother got a full time job at Xerox. it was a high profile sales position, which great for her, at 24 years old. she had recently purchased her first home- a nice four bedroom home in Riverside, in a cul-de-sac. we were the first blacks on the block, and like the jeffersons, mom's was moving on up. My dad, his new girlfriend, and thier two year old son lived still in the L.A. area somethere, so I didnt see him as much.

Mom was a very beautiful, popular woman, with an active social life. She went on vacations, spent money on nice homes, was alwasy tanned and in shape. I have a large bag filled with her 'Wish You Were Here' letters from Hawaii, and various exotic places. I longed to go with her, and felt that since she only had one child, I should go. her answer: "You go on vacation to get AWAY from your kids, silly!'

To this day, we never traveled together.

Her job became pretty demanding, so did her social life, and mom bought a key that I could use to get in the house after school. The agreement became this:

1. Get up in the morning,

2. Get myself ready for school.

3. Go to school (either walk or get a ride with the neighbor-but she would always show me the route by car)

4. Walk home

(...She left money on the coffee table for McDonalds.)

5. Ride my bike to McDonalds -off the main street

6. Come home, eat

7. Do homeowork

8. Watch TV

9. Read

10. Go to bed (and hopefully see mom before bed)

If she stayed out too late, I would call my dad sometimes and tell him I was afraid, and he would call around looking for her. I remember those nights vividly, because it was really dark, and there were some commercials that just freak little kid out. He would always calm me down and tell me that if she didnt show up soon, he would come and get me. We didnt have cell phones back then, so you just had to wait..and worry.

(This is us when I was turning 6)

I also had severe asthma as well.  I remember the fear I felt not being able to breathe properly. I couldn't sit up, my chest hurt. Couldn't lay down, because I couldnt breathe at all. I would just gasp all night long, and go in and out of sleep. I remember wishing my mom would come in the room and stroke my back or my hair, and say SOMETHING to soothe the pain.  But I dont ever remember her doing it, except one time when I asked. And she did it for maybe five minutes. Affection wasn't her thing. Nor was taking care of a needy little kid.

Sometimes, I would have to go to school this way, and it would get so bad, that a police car would pick me up from school and take me to the hospital. After the nurses went home, sometimes they would take me home, because they couldnt reach mom, either.

I even remember sleeping at a nurses home, where mom came to collect me about 12-1 am.
Its a wonder that no DFCS was called. I guess back then latchkey kids were a normal occurrence.

But even as bad as that seemed: my worst experiences came when I would lose my KEY. Normally, this key would hang around my neck by a string. Some days, however, (being 6 years old) I forgot it at home. I would sit outside in panic. If the neighbors were home, I would ask the father to help me break in. He would boost me through a window, and into a bathroom.

(Suprisingly, they didnt tell me to stay over until my mom got home)

Those moments were always gut-wrenching for me, because if the neighbor wasnt home, I would sit on the porch, and wait and wait. The key became my security. I looked for it, I held it, I depended on it, to get me home to safety.

Later, God became my KEY. My key to security, shelter, and comfort, and I learned to depend on Him the way I did the little key around my neck.
If you have been neglected, abused, or had any other traumas in your childhood: know that the KEY is there for you, and God wants to give you peace and restoration. he wants to be the parent and friend you didnt have, and be the comfort and security that you desperately need.  

Looking back; I am surprised I wasn't  kidnapped.  I did alot of walking, and spent alot of time alone. But God has His hands on me, and nothing serious happened. I thank Him for that.

On a positive: During my isolation, I learned to invent stories, games, and characters in my head.This set the foundation for my writings, stories, and imagination. This is where I see that God used this experience to shape who I would eventually be. So through our trying times, we have to learn to see what God was doing in and through us. I would not be the person I am without the mind I developed during my isolation. My mom brought home free typewriters from Xerox and that was my favorite pleasure. I would write, write write. it became my passion, my therapy.
By 9 years old, a writer was born...

LITTLE GIRL LONELY

Little girl lonely

I see you now…

face pressed against the windowpane

waiting on a father who never keeps promises

or a mother who parties the nights away

a key on a string hangs limply around your neck

always waiting…and waiting

and waiting some more

for a happy moment to come your way

a friend to walk through the door…

Little girl lonely

I feel your pain…

always alone, whether sunshine or rain

eats, sleeps, and plays alone

with only the comfort of a book she makes

she pretends to have love, life, friends, and family

as through the pages there within she looks

she doesn’t realize that this happiness found

only exists in the pages of books

Little girl lonely

I know it hurts …

the tears flow warm, fast, and moist

wetting her pretty face each day,

and there’s no one to see them

or wipe them away

Who will take away this empty space?

who will fill her heart with love, she wonders?

And, sadly, the answer remains the same

No One will ever suddenly appear…

that hole in her heart will remain.

Little Girl Lonely

I wish I could hug you…

and squeeze with all my might

kiss your face, wipe your tears away

read you a story each night

I’d tell you that you are the most beautiful girl

and that one day things will be perfect

that life will be grand

your heart will never ache

you will grow up getting the love you deserve

I’d tell you that you’ll be surrounded by those

who’ll be honest and always show that they care

respect you, and  love you until your heart skips a beat

But I cant lie, I cant lie…I don’t dare

you’ve been lied to enough by the ones that you trusted

so I tearfully watch you without a word

and I hurt inside for the bitter, broken woman that you will be

and the hurt and pain you will inevitably endure

The Little Girl lonely becomes Woman Lost

never to be truly loved and free

and how do I know this? You may ask

Because Little Girl Lonely…was me.