Memiors of a Born Travleer: First Heartbreak

Baby’s First Heart Break

Penetrated deep within her psyche, then and even now, the screeching sound of a trailer’s screen doors’ rusted bits, violently grinding against each other; like a bolt of lightning, suddenly an unwelcome trip to the past.

Innocently, the child chanted the titles of her most beloved people,

“Mom-my Ni-na, Uncle Tom-my, Uncle Ric-ky, Pop-Pop, Aunt Kat-Kat”…

As she stalked the trees nearing closer to the touch, with every accomplished self-pumped swing, 5-year-old Ireland barely noticed the unforeseen bellowing of her mother. Although the swing set was her favorite, it was second to being picked up early from school by her mom.

There was always an adventure around the corner when she got taken out of school early. This time was no acceptation, only mom was actually signing her out, with no intention of returning. As Ireland belted herself in the car, anticipating the journey ahead, her mom told her they were taking a trip to see Aunt Nina and Uncle Tee in Idaho. With no other explanation needed, Ireland trusted this to be another journey on the road with her mom. They turned on the tunes, got some McDonalds and headed down the road. Never looking back, because what was to come was always more exciting.

Ireland watched as the trees became unfamiliar, the ocean became rolling hills and crop fields. She lived for these moments, daydreaming watching her mother bob her head to Pat Benatar, sing out of tune, and occasionally reaching over to caress her delicate cheeks. She knew she was the only one who was always on the receiving end of mom’s tenderness; it made her feel special.

As dark settled and the passing lights streamed by, Ireland fell fast asleep, waking only to sound of raised voices.

Laying there, exhausted from the long unexpected journey, she could hear Aunt Nina and mommy arguing. Although a bit more intense than normal, she ignored their routine, classifying it as the standard sisterly squabbling. Gently wiping the goo from her already tired, swollen eyes; curiously, she studied her surroundings.

Not recalling when she had arrived, she was a bit confused. Mommy said they were taking a surprise trip to Aunt Nina’s and Uncle T’s, and she could hear their voices echoing from the other room. Not to mention the smell; her house always hummed with fragrances of assorted floral and fruity candles, Marlboro Reds and the faint smell of secretly rolled cigarettes.
So, she pondered, “Who’s room is this?” “Nina, doesn’t have any girls, or any kids at all here.” The room looked as though it was expecting a princess. The blankets and bed dressing were new, a vanity had been set with crayons, coloring books, and girly supplies; if only, to manipulate the inquisitiveness and temporary happiness of an unsuspecting child. Curiosity or nosiness, either way, one had taken over.
She crept from the strange bed and placed her ear against the hollow door.
Not even a moment of eavesdropping had passed before everything came at her like a flash. The trip, the official removal from school, the overpacked car, the princess bedroom. Sprinting to the front parlor, hastily, she aimed for her mother. Unexpectedly, Ireland had clamped on her mom, like a child equestrian using their fathers’ leg as a stallion. Not this time though, this was no ride around the t.v. room for Saturday morning shenanigans. No, this was something completely different, something more life-changing… and unimaginable.

Ireland began prayerfully begging, “Please mommy, don’t leave me” although verbally uncomprehend-able to the human ear, her intent was excruciatingly recognizable. Appealing the unjust sentence, given by her mother, she sobs uncontrollably,
“please mommy, don’t go away”, at an attempt to get one more minute, she cried, “Wait, wait, wait, let me hug you, please.” Grasping at any chance she had, she gently stroked her mommy’s face between both her tiny, sweat-drenched hands, pleading with the softer side of her soul, “DON'T DON'T DON'T” “Don’t go kay mommy, kay, I’m going with you, kay, wait, ok, kay mommy, please?”.

“No, stop, Ireland, get down.” Looking to her savior, sister and lifetime caretaker, she cries with heavy tears rolling down her face, “Nina are ya gonna fuckin’ help me or what? Take her, I gotta go! Fuck! You should’ve let me outta here before she fucking woke up, now I gotta deal with this shit, thanks.” The sting from those words, were ensued by a lifelong trait to never leave without saying goodbye. To this day, Ireland doesn’t know why that fashioned such a scaring wound. Maybe because this was the first time her mother showed resentment, anger or annoyance with her. Maybe, because there was no warning, no incident, nothing to insinuate that this wasn’t another fun mommy-daughter trip, but a drop-off, a discarding, a premature, cutting, of the proverbial cord between mother and daughter.
Sliding down her mother’s thin but solid frame, numb from shock, she didn’t even feel the belt cut eye. Once again, she found herself clamped onto her mother’s leg.

Now it was just uncontrollable crying, no words; fueled by the maliciousness of abandonment, the malic of deceit, and cruelty of her mother’s heartless unjustified lyrics.

Young Ireland had lost her ability to articulate the emotions being evoked, the rapid thoughts in her tiny fragile mind couldn’t make the connections needed to convince her mom to take her. All she could do was squeeze and anchor her mother to the floor. Uncle Tee gently placed his hands around her petite frail waist, “Come’er sweetheart”, her mother pulled opposite, sending Ireland landing firm in his arms. Flailing and thrashing, waling at his head and back, she screamed and wailed,

_ “NOOOOOOO! PLEASE, MOMMY!” “I DON’T HATE YOU, I’M SORRY, I WON’T BOTHER YOU NO MORE, OKAY”,_ she apologized relentlessly for crimes, not committed. “WHAT DID I DO? I JUST WANT A HUG, MOMMY WAIT, WAIT, WAIT! ",
Turning and lunging for her mom.

In an instant, she was gone.

Defeated, traumatized, uncommunicable, and shocked, she laid limp upon her uncles’ shoulder. The tears fell fierce, as did her silence. The innocence lost in her eyes, erased, only to be replaced with sorrow.
All that was left was the final creak of the screen door and the crippling silence of a baby’s first heartbreak.
The last words, she recalls, from that day are,

“It’s okay Princess, I love you, little girl. It’s okay, it’s going to be okay. Shhhhhh, Uncle Tee and Aunt Nina, got you.”

Written by K. Flannigan
soulowonderer.com

Thank you so much for reading. This is an exurpt of my new book. Feedback would be highly appreciated.