All Posts · Emotional Baggage

Please Don’t Take Me Home

The car was blue and the sun was hot.  Everything seemed a little fuzzy – Hazy.

I was sitting in the front seat.  I could barely see over the dashboard and out the window.  I couldn’t have been more than 3, maybe 4?

Nonna was driving and we were going somewhere.  I didn’t know where.  I remembered that Nonna always kept chocolate bars in the glove box… just for me.  I was excited and I reached far, far over my lap to open the little box and see what was inside.  It was there!  A chocolate bar just for me!  I was so excited.

I fiddled with the wrapper – tried to open it myself.  I was distracted for a while.  I looked up – I don’t know why.  I probably wanted to ask Nonna to open the chocolate bar for me.  But my excitement faded instantly.  Out the window I could see the Food-for-Less – the one close to home.  We were going home.  Nonna was taking me home.

Fear, trepidation, anxiety – all replacing the excitement that coursed through my tiny body only moments before.  I didn’t want to go home.

Nonna!  Don’t take me home!  Let’s go back to you house!  I want to stay at your house forever!

“It’s okay, Love.  You have to go home.  Mommy and Daddy will miss you if you don’t go home.  I wish you could stay with me too.”

“Mommy is mean.  Daddy is mean.  Don’t take me home.”

Big tears running down my little cheeks.

A little girl of 3 or 4… begging to not go home to her parents…. my earliest memory.

Written in response to the Daily Prompt

5 thoughts on “Please Don’t Take Me Home

  1. Bless your heart. I’m so sorry. When I read the Daily Prompt today, I thought to myself that it would have been better if they had asked us to write about a fond memory, rather than our first memory, because for some of us, it would have been much less painful. I pray the Lord blesses you and comforts you.

    Love,
    Cheryl

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  2. Having a troubled childhood is the hardest. It fills you with so much fear of the past. But I can see that your filling up your life with much better memories. I hope that they get to the point where they erase everything bad that you remember.

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    1. Yes, I agree. I am so afraid of being a bad parent because of how my parents treated me. I am also petrified of divorce; again, because of my parents…

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