***Trigger Warning – contains potentially distressing material pertaining to sexual assault
Headed Home
My aunt was apparently too ill to make the trip back with me to my home. In fact, I believe she had received a grim prognosis from the last visit to her doctor before I was set to leave. So when my aunt talked to my parents, my dad made the shocking decision to give my aunt permission to put me on a Greyhound bus alone. I was going to be making the trip back home alone unaccompanied by any adult.
Prior to the trip, my dad had long phone conversations with me filled with directions about bus changes and seating. He happened to know a man who drove for the company and would be on the look out for me. Unfortunately, this man was not going to be driving the bus that would get me home though. He would only be able to talk to other drivers that he knew who were making the trip. Plus, there was no guarantee that I would even be allowed to travel alone because I had just turned 10.
After the revelation of my aunt’s progressively worsening cancer and the admission that I was mature for my age, a friend of my aunt offered to take my aunt and me to the station where my aunt and me would (unknowingly to me) exchange our final goodbyes. Prior to this event however, there were other goodbyes that occurred in the neighborhood before I made it to the bus station, and I was overwhelmed by what I considered to be shocking displays of love from others – even people I had not even known.
I had no idea that there were older women in the neighborhood who had been rooting for me and my survival after a horrific sexual assault. I had no idea that there were older women who were steadily keeping an eye on my progress towards recovery. Although I had not known that I was in a state of slow recovery, I look back upon that time and realize that, in retrospect, I had recovered even if not in a steady manner of healing. I had, however, begun recovering enough to bring myself back out into the world and function as normally as possible under the circumstances.
These older women were the ones that hugged me and said loving “goodbyes” to me – wishing me farewell, safe travels, and continued healing. Yet, other women who were younger (around my aunt’s age) were more than happy to see me go. I wonder sometimes if they reluctantly glanced upon me in fear as I represented what could have happened to their own daughters or even them. I noted in at least two women’s goodbyes an element of shame and embarrassment that I did not understand but still comprehended by the way their words and actions made me feel.
Although my mind had erased those events, my body felt the emotions of others projected onto me. It was an array of feelings that caused an eruption of emotions within me that I could not fully comprehend. I just remember feeling a wellspring of tears erupt from my eyes that I could not control. I was saddened by the fact that most of these women saying their goodbyes were women that I had never had the opportunity to truly know. I might have run errands for them or simply waved to them on my walk-bys as they sat on their stoops. It was a surreal feeling.
It was even more a surreal feeling because I was leaving the place of a tragic story that played out all around me without me being aware of what was really going on. All I had was me and the experience that my mind had erased. All I had were the moments of anger that I did not understand. I wondered in those moments of “goodbyes” with a bit of confusion as to how so many women that I did not know could know my story but never allow me to feel their warm embraces. At the time, I could only take it to mean what it was to me on the surface of that moment. I had survived a horrible summer and would be able to live on to tell about it. I was going home.
Prepping for The Ride Home
When my aunt’s friend finally arrived with us to the bus station, I was extremely sad. I was unable to stop the tears from falling from my eyes. I could feel the sadness within the very depths of me, and I knew somewhere deeply within me that I would never see my aunt again. I desperately wanted to savor the moments I had with her – even the bad times. In fact, I just wanted to hold her … to hug her … to love her, but she seemed reserved with a defensive wall up all around her. I could tell she was fatigued and that there was a disconnection within her eyes. Yet, I was literally overwhelmed by the feelings that were too big for me to contain.
When we got out of the car, we walked through the bus station and up to a window where my aunt purchased my ticket. She then asked for the name of a driver that was supposed to meet us. I assumed that the man that eventually came up to greet us was the man that my father knew. He walked with us over to the terminal where another driver was waiting for us. There was some discussion between the two drivers and my aunt, and then they all turned to look at me. I was given instructions about various things regarding my seat on the bus, the transfer from one bus to another, and the woman who would be meeting me in one state to make sure I made it home.
There was a lot to take in, and I remember the excitement I felt about doing something that was an adult activity. In fact, the bus drivers commented that I was the first child that they had ever known to travel alone, and they were going to make sure that I made it safely to my destination. Both drivers mentioned that they had children of their own and would want someone looking out for their children too if this type of need ever came about for them. So, after all was said and done and the verification process for me to understand what was going to happen was complete, my aunt pulled me over to the side for our final goodbye.
Stay tuned for what happened next.
My Voice Unchained 