#hording wheniwasjustalittlegirl memoir shortstories

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When I was just a Little Girl

When I was born, I was the baby child and therefore, my parents were ill prepared for my arrival.  They lived in a small two-bedroom house with a front porch and big yard with my big brother.  They did, however, close in the front porch, leaving it windowless, and created a nursery for me.  Growing up, I never really cared that I had the smallest and only windowless room in the house.  However, when I got older, it would have been nice to slam a door in teenage angst, unfortunately, my door was only a curtain.  Said curtain, alas, did not allow for any angst, much less any privacy.  Lack of a door also allowed me to hear my parents’ fights and to see the destruction that was my mother’s anguish manifested as hording.  

The fact that my mother was a horder, yes I mean like the ones on T.V., did not allow for any guests, much less slumber parties as a young adult and teenager.  It meant keeping the world out and burying ourselves in filth and clutter.  Needless to say, I spent a lot of time outside growing up and created endless stories and games within my own imagination.  I was a diving girl like Sonora Webster, I rode horses with Wyatt Earp, and my Barbies had beautiful and clean homes where they threw dinner and pool parties with all their friends.

My mom’s hording extended to the car when I was in elementary school.  This particular fact mortified me because my parents refused to let me ride the bus and insisted that my mother take me to school every morning.  The fact that the principal opened my door and saw the mess was bad enough, it was only made worse when things would fall out of the car as other children were entering the building.  Therefore, it should not be surprising, I didn’t have many friends growing up.  Back then, like today, most of being friends involves spend the night parties and birthday parties and things of that nature.  When your parents instill the fear of DFCS in you from an early age, you knew never to invite anybody over.  

Maybe the stars aligned just right or maybe the heavens decided to take pity on this poor little skinny girl who just wanted a friend.  However it happened, I am still eternally grateful for Grace, the pretty little lonely blond headed girl who befriended me when I was in the third grade.  We are still friends today and I cannot imagine my life without her in it.  You see, we and our families were polar opposites.  Her house was lived in but always clean and everything had a place.  Her dad woke up early every Sunday morning and made a full breakfast (I’m talking pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs, chocolate milk) and we went out to eat together and ate dinner at their house together and I spent most of my formative childhood years in their house.  The biggest difference in our families is that where my parents never wanted anybody to spend the night, Grace’s parents never wanted her to spend the night away from home.  I mean how perfect is that?  

I only made it where I am today because of those years spent at her house.  My house is not always spotless, but it is always clean and devoid of clutter.  I almost lose my mind when things start piling up and have nowhere to go.  My mom and dad divorced after 32 years of marriage and each has their own home, two states apart, that is clean and devoid of clutter.  We have all come a long way and my mom has sought and received treatment for her mental illness.  Although we are all so far apart now, my mom and I one state and my dad and brother in another, we are actually better than I think we have ever been.