a sparrows dwelling

I remember. i remember so many things. I remember then as if it were now and now as if it were then, can one remember everything, emotional overload.

I came home from school one day. Its when we lived in at the end of Pennysway. I can see her as I remember her I can feel her to, she lives aside me, she lives with in.

I got home from school,It was hot and my hands were clammy. It was one of those days where I was moody and irritable. One of those days where I was misunderstood, A day I turned to my fantasy to evade the kids who tease me. I was still a little girl who played grown up. I must of been seven. Some days at school were better than others. Some days I spent all my hours playing games.

I remember one game where used to pretend the field was a lake and I had to use people to get across,I had to turn them into rafts or boats or sometimes they would turn into magical silk that i could walk on.

Sometimes if I was frustrated in class I would find an escape route to the bathroom. Where either I would sit in the stalls and rock til it stopped or I found myself in the stairwell where the sparrows made there mud like nests,I would loose myself in watching as they flew in and out.

So these days to elude the brashness of unexpected actuality. A Little girl unbeknown to her rapidly different but ever so indifferent creative process of survival. Surviving only what she would learn to understand a good 20 years later, alligator-

 I got back from school hot, and my hands clammy, I was moody as I had a day of kids teasing me and me hiding in corners or walking on the far end of the field. I threw my school bag down rather aggressively. the aggressive matched the oppressive. I ran into my room swinging my door open by kicking it in and flinging myself over to my top bunk. I lay on my tummy with my head in my hands and cried.

"Mom why do people have to be so ugly, why are they so mean? Is there something wrong with me? Why am I different?" and the list of questions went on.  

All I remember and the reason I wrote this is because i was humming it in my head earlier,It just came to me,I know why it came- But back then this little girl who asked mom, mom taught her to say: 

"sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never harm me!"

she told me I would be OK if I remembered that and so I went back to school and I believe I never stopped saying that,even though it is so untrue as words are sometimes so much more painful then a beating,words that never leave the soul, a inner scar not a beating an outer scar. So even though I knew this did not take it away it gave me a weapon. Something to believe in ,It held me up when I wanted to fall down and I said it to keep them from seeing it hurt me. 

A miracle drug/weapon for the little girl that wept, so I ask myself, Now what will it be?