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The Dance My First Love

Written By

Kristy Cato

FAMILY

Book By

Kristy Cato

No on prop 8

Chapter One

On My Own

Imagine being 6 years old standing on a stage looking out towards a room full of parents gathered to celebrate the first of what will likely be just one of many achievements, a child’s first graduation. Kindergarten in California is an exciting time; not just for kids who get to wear white robes and receive little awards to signify their moving on to the first grade, but also for parents who bring flowers as they arrive and some with neatly wrapped boxes as gifts, of celebration in honour of this special day. It can also be a sad day, especially for one little girl who woke up on this special day knowing that before she leaving for school. Her mother wasn’t home nor was she anywhere to be found. That was me, Carrie. Looking back now, I wonder how I was able to get myself up, make myself a bowl of cereal, take a shower, brush my sandy brown shoulder-length hair and head off to school to my graduation. I was young and very use to taking to taking care of myself. My mother was either drunk or hardly around ever around. As with most young girls, I was a sweet girl who needed to be loved and continually looked for it from my mother, but couldn’t seem to ever get it. It became easy to become a quiet and reserved young girl, because I didn’t have much interaction with other kids. I was petite, I had the prettiest walnut brown eyes as I was often told and always kept a smile on my face. I can recall hanging onto hope inside that one day my own mother would see this in me, and that one day she would love me. I did well in school, kept my room clean and stay out of her way, as a way of trying to make her happy. I love my mother and this was the only way I knew how to show her that. Most importantly, I wanted to spend time with her. I recall getting to school that day where tables were being set up in the room for everyone attending. On top of each table were names of the kids’ parents. All of us kids were asked to stand in line and give our family’s names and the number of chairs we would need for our family members. My teacher notice that I was not in line. When she finishes with all the other kids, she walked over to me and said that I need to give her my family count and their names so my table could be set up. I looked up at my blonde headed teacher whose shoes were slightly worn and whose dress I remember having static cling at the bottom; she stood only about 5ft2” tall. I said, “My mom is my only family member and she can’t make it.” She was kind to me and said, “Well then, you can sit with the teachers until it’s time to go on stage.” I felt nervous, but I said, “Okay, thank you.” While all the teachers gave their speeches and served us punch and cookies. I looked around the room at all the kids having a good time with their families, and wishing it was me. After graduation was over, I walked home. I was a latch key kid, so when I’d get home, I would let myself in.

I arrived home to find that my mom still wasn’t home. I don’t even think she came home the night before. She did that a lot, which meant most of the time I was on my own. I sat down to watch TV, hoping my mom would be home soon to make some dinner, but by 8pm when she still wasn’t home, I decided to make myself a peanut butter sandwich. I had to scrape the mole off of the bread because mom hadn’t gone food shopping in a while. There was nothing to eat really other then cereal, a jar with barely any peanut butter left in it, and a little bit of milk which I was saving for my cereal in the morning. Growing up I didn’t really have a bedtime because mom was hardly ever home. When she was home she would just send me to bed when one of her boyfriends was with her, or when she just didn’t want to be bothered with me. Although my mom would go through boyfriend what seem like every month, they were always the center of her attention. That night, I fell asleep watching TV. It was around 130am when my mom came home drunk yelling at me to turn the TV off and go to bed. Sometimes I stayed in the living room with the TV on because I was afraid to be in the house by myself, which happen often. The next morning mom was home. I tried to show her my graduation certificate, but she barley glanced at it before putting it down on the table. There was no, "I am proud of you" and no, "I am sorry I couldn’t make it.” Later on that day, I found my graduation certificate under a glass with water rings on it, as if she had been using it for a coaster. I took it, wiped it dry and put it away. My mom was a big drinker, this made her look a lot older then she actually was. I didn’t know how old my mother was at that time, but I remember her looking really old to me. She could be pretty scary at times, with her dark black hair and bags under what, I assumed use to be her pretty blue eyes. She usually looked so warn out and beaten up, scary like I said which for a little girl is not what you want to see. I spent plenty of time playing in my room by myself and did lots of reading, because I wasn’t allowed to have friends over. I wish so badly that I had a brother or sister. I felt really lonely playing on my own all of the time. By the time I was 8, it became clear to me that my mother hated me, yet I didn’t know why. I remember her saying mean things to condemn me and she would put me down all of the time. She told me I was a waste of time and space. I just tried to stay out of her way. I knew to never ask for anything because she always said she didn’t have any money. When I was 10, one of the girls in my class passed out invitations to her 11thbirthday party. I couldn’t believe I was invited to my first birthday party. I had never been to one, let alone have one of my own. I was so excited when I got home! I showed my mother the invitation and asked if I could go. She said. “Sure.” I remember running to my bedroom to find my best dress, though I knew I didn’t have many. The dress I picked out was a pretty pink one which was bought at the thrift shop. Like all the rest of my clothes. I asked my mom if we could go out and buy a present. She said, “If you have to bring something to the party, then you can’t go.” I told her I didn’t have to bring anything, just so I could go. I knew I wanted to bring something, so instead of buying a gift; I got some paper and a handful of markers and made what I thought was a really pretty card. I was so proud of it I couldn’t wait until Saturday! By Friday, I double check with my mom to make sure she was still going to take me to the party; she assured me that she was. Although the party wasn’t until 3pm, I woke up really early with excitement about going Saturday morning. I went into the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal and notice mom was not home. I ate; I watched cartoons and waited for time to pass, hoping for my mother to come home. Around 130pm I got tired of waiting, so I decided I would get dress for the party. I grabbed my card off my dresser and sat on the couch, waiting patiently for my mother to come home. At 230pm I started to get nervous. I had an ill feeling and somehow knew she wasn’t coming home. Needless to say, I woke up on the couch later that night around 930pm. I got up off the couch, went into my room, took my dress off and got in bed and cried myself to sleep. I was no longer afraid to sleep in the house alone from that night on, because I realized no one would ever hurt me as much as my mom did. After that night, I never asked her for anything ever again……

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