Every now and then I experience a stab of pain in my heart that can only be explained with a memory.
The way I felt this morning as I drove down Meridian brought back a memory of being a young girl and being dropped off at my father’s house after church with my mother to stay for a week in the summer. I was sick with a high fever and felt bewildered by colors and sounds, and for some reason, when we got there I refused to go. My father gave me a hug and told me ruefully that I would not see him that week if I didn’t stay, but I refused. When an hour later we arrived back at my mother’s house it suddenly struck me that I wanted quite desperately to be at my father’s. My mother told me that I had already made up my mind and they weren’t driving two more hours to bring me back. A rush of intense panic came over me as I said over and over that it was a mistake and I had to go back. They walked inside, and I stood in the parking lot in a state of feverish anguish and began to scream and sob hysterically, alone under the midday sun, and realizing that I would not see my father for over a week because of my choice, I felt I was truly going to die of regret, that if I screamed or cried loud enough my father would hear me and come and get me and take me away from my mistakes and away from that God forsaken place I called my home.