Dear Allison,
I was angry. Simple as that, my day has been, without
question, positively wretched. I hunched
over and clamped my head between my knees, leaning against her, our oak tree; I
tend to do this when I’m angry. Mother
had me bursting steam out my ears nearly ten minutes after waking, to make
things worse Simon spat his morning oatmeal all over Dad’s old shirt,
resulting in a painful slap being delivered across his face from yours
truly. I was raging deep down; no one
seemed to understand what it’s like. Having
an autistic eight-year-old brother, an alcoholic mother, no father. Life has never been simple, going day to day,
questions poking around in my mind; why did he ever leave us? Where had he
gone? Why can’t she be better? Why does Simon have to act this way? My raged ended up making quite the scene.
Mother was undoubtedly hung-over,
the stench of last nights excessive drinking on her breath. “Bowman! Shut up! Shut him up!” Her bloodshot eyes glaring straight at me
with the utmost ferocity.
“Please Simon, quiet down and eat your . . .” The oatmeal splattered onto Dad’s old James
Taylor shirt, “Simon! I can’t believe you.” My hand met his face with such
force, such anger; it knocked him flat on his butt onto the ground. My world began to twirl, words and screams
flying through the air. Hot tears began
to escape my dry eyes, Mother shouting profanities, and Simon screaming for
all of Oregon to hear.
I ran past
Mother, past Simon, through the door, and to our oak tree. There she stood, the familiar grooves of her
worn bark, her leaves protecting me from the downpour. Anger filled me and seemed to make my skin
hot making the rain steam as it evaporated from me.
I write
this to you now in a more sedated state, longing for you to answer yet equipped
with the bitter feeling that I will never hear from you. I miss you Allie, wish you were here, you
would know what to tell me, and you always did.
I’m leaving this here, in our tree, for you. Though I know you’ll never answer me, I feel
you watching over me. I love you sis.
Please take care of us.
Love you,
Bowman
Dear Reader,
Now, I feel this one might need an explanation of where it came from. Unfortunately I can't give you that explanation, it's too deep to tell. However, it has real meaning and I ask you to take your own meaning out of it. Just see it as a way to see how someone is always there, watching over you :)
Read on n_n and keep coming back
Love,
Me :)
I
