Saved by The Dead

Days disappeared like evaporating rain in the desert behind my little eyes. I was numb to life and did not care about anything other than school, church, and Vangie my one and only friend. Children can and do become numb to their environment when the need to survive is paramount. Survival takes on many cloaks of desperation and my cloak was a multilayer covering of fear and faith. Fear kept me on my toes and faith allowed me accept all the unknowns in my life. My days in Arizona were coming to an end, and in a way I never dreamed would happen. My days playing in the soft desert earth with doodle bugs and searching for woodpecker nest, and racing the wind on my powder blue bicycle, and stealing food, riding crazy horses, and sneaking into theaters, and inviting myself to dance classes and much, much more would soon be over.

(Image from Zillow. Florence AZ, the landscape of many imaginary escapades!)

I remember my last day in Florence as if it were tattooed onto my skin, forever a part of me, never to fade from my memory. I responded to the morning sun's relentless pokes with pent up frustration. I could not take one more sunny beam in my face because I was feeling as if I had begun to melt away into nothingness, and the sun was only making me melt away faster. I was reluctant to get out of bed. I could not find my wild stallion to prance into the bathroom, my big humongous wild horse had abandoned me. I could not find the energy to get dressed, nor energy to run from cockroaches. I sat, numb, on a bare mattress looking out across my doorless bedroom, watching bugs scamper here and there across the walls. I had not been feeling very well for some time, but on this day, I could not fight how my body felt, so I just sat on my bed with no interest in life. It would be almost 30 years before I put the puzzle pieces together and figured out I was ill with Hepatitis A. Not one adult knew I was ill and had been for some time. One of my brother's had Hep A after a camping trip into the mountains. He was taken to the hospital and treated, but no one noticed that I had contracted Hepatitis from my brother. I am proof that you can go unseen, even if you are ill with yellow eyeballs and peeing dark orange. I was not concerned about my urine, what 9/10 year old thinks about their pee? I was not concerned with my eyes because the truth is I never looked in the mirror close enough to see my own eyes. As bugs hurriedly ran between the door jam and the wall one of my brothers walked by my bed on his way to the bathroom. My brother chided me about not getting up and warned me there would be dire consequences to pay if I did not go to school. A warning I rarely received since I always wanted to be at school. Being at school was a far better experience than staying in the apartment all day. Cockroaches were not my most favorite playmates. I was not concerned about not going to school. I was not fearful of my father's wrath for he never did care if I was at school, or not, or home or not. I tried not to interact with my father too much toward the end of my time living with him in Arizona because being around him made me feel ill. His presence created an uneasy sensation in me for he had touched me in a way that made me feel creepy inside. My father touched me like the gas station attendant did, and like the older boy next door did and as he touched me that one time, he was looking at me with one eye open and one eye shut. My father's look reminded me of the cartoon character Popeye, one eye open one eye shut. He touched me looking like Popeye, one eye open one eye shut. I hate Popeye. On this day, a day I was feeling 2-dimensional, I was sure my father was not home and that made my choice to stay in bed a little easier.

(Maryanne Hughes Mesple as she looked while living in Arizona with her father) 

As I sat on my bed like a lifeless rag doll I heard a commotion outside the apartment. There were men talking, and the men were talking rather loudly. Their voices were so loud I became frightened and tried to hide under the bedsheets. I could hear my father's voice in the mix and the voice of a woman too. Suddenly, my older brother appeared in my bedroom and told me to get up and get dressed and to make it fast. His body language and pitch of voice let me know he was not kidding and I knew I needed to do what he asked and in a hurry - there was something terrible happening once again in our lives. I jumped out of bed and threw on my clothes I left on the floor the night before and put on my sneakers without socks. With uncombed hair and dirty clothes I meekly emerged from my sick bed, and slowly walked across the living room floor toward the front door where I could see the backs of both my brothers and their bodies were fidgeting in unison. I was confused because I believed both my brothers were at school or at least had been. How long had I been sitting in my bed? Hours must have passed without me even blinking or thinking? I was feeling weak, and faint but I knew I had to be present for what was about to happen.

I pushed against the screened door and as it gave way to my little body with a creak and a moan I stepped outside to stand between my brothers who were much older than I and much bigger. I must have looked like a wisp of a person between them. I watched as my father bellowed awful words  at two policemen. My dad's face was red and waxen looking, he had that one eye open and one eye shut look as spit flew from his lips! Every word he spat out of his mouth was filled with venom. Venom toward the police and venom toward a woman. Why was he using the word "she" I wondered and soon I saw why there was so much yelling and finger pointing and spit flying about and just who the "she" was that had angered my father so. There, standing next to a white car was my mother and standing next to my mom was a tall man with glasses. When I saw my mom I screamed, "Mommy!!!" so loud everyone fell silent and I bolted like a freed wild animal away from my brother's sides toward my mom's open arms! I jumped up landing in her embrace and burying my face into her neck I began to cry. I don't remember much else about what was being said or done but I do recall being put into the back seat of that wonderful clean, brand new white car and leaving Florence Arizona with my mother who had miraculously risen from the dead to save me, my two brothers, and some strange man. I must have fallen into a deep, healing sleep for I have only snippets of recall traveling from Arizona to Mississippi. I went from living in Arizona with my father, to living in Columbus Mississippi with my mother in one brief dream like moment. I truly was too ill to care about much, especially just who that strange tall man was who owned the beautiful white car. I had just celebrated my 10th birthday.

(Image found on Google, no credits given. 1963 Chevrolet Impala)

Mississippi. M I crooked letter, crooked letter I, crooked letter crooked letter I, hump back hump back I. Mississippi. A new chapter to my life with a whole new set of rules for adventure. 

I would encounter racism once again, toward my family and toward anyone who was not "white" even though segregation was beginning to end and all were to be treated equal. Where I lived that was not true. Here is a link that has a great story about Mississippi during the time I lived there.  Just click the highlighted sentence. 

Mississippi, It's like coming home, and for me it was. I was home, with my mother at last.

And what better music to capture a time in one's life than that of the Beatles as they emerged onto the music scene as musical, cultural shaping, giants.

(All stories blogged by me are my property and protected under copyright laws. No part may be used or reproduced in anyway without my permission ~ Maryanne Mesplé)