In shock, I watch the door go shut, until every speck of light disappears.
What was it I did? I struggle to remember, as the tears run down my face. My mouth opens, but not a sound can squeak out. No sound came from outside of the tiny room.
My feet frozen to the floor, I sense my surroundings. Soundless, spooky things are all around. Time stands still until finally I begin to move. I move slowly at first while getting the feel of all that is around me. Fear consumes me. I stick my thumb in my mouth. It offers comfort for awhile.
Every thing goes in slow motion as finally I weave through silk, cotton, and denim. I trip over shoes and other floor clinging items. All the spooky things become familiar things even though still unseen. I just want out. What was it I did? I must have been a bad girl.
I discover the back corner and draw myself to the floor, and pull myself tight to the wall. I pull up my legs and hug them tight. I fall asleep as my tears run like a river down my face and down my arms.
The sound awakens me. Fear consumes and racks my three year old body. I force my eyes wide, but still cannot see. “Just stay still. Don’t move. It will go away.”
“Why doesn’t mama come get me?”
My mind comes to rescue me, giving me imaginations of better times. I feel loving arms around me. I hear cooing in my ears, “what a good little girl you are.” Sleep downs me to the floor in a tiny little heap.
Time has moved on and then Grrr… Grrr… Grrr!
My eyes want to pop open, but I force them tight shut. I think, “Maybe if I don’t move it will go away.” I tell myself, “I will stay quiet and good. Then mama will come and open the door and get me out. The sound will go away.”
“My mama is going to be upset.” I think this as I feel the dampness beneath me. “Why doesn’t she come get me?”
“I’m a bad girl.”
It has been a long time, but finally the door opens up. Expecting light to pour in, I find that the day has been spent, the sun is down, and I leave the darkness of the closet to the darkness of the day.
Grrr! This time I hear the sound without fuzziness’ of mind. It comes from my tummy. It matches the hunger that I feel.
Grrr, shouts from my tummy for food and Grrr, shouts from my heart for love.
Mama explains she forgot she confined me in the closet. She does not remind me what I did to get placed there. She scoops me up, feeds me, and tucks me in bed. It was just a dream, I tell myself.
That is until I grew up. It lays in my mind as real as today. Now I hear it, Grrr! the constant call for love and food.
Postscript: With the writing of this, it brings me healing. I know I am not alone with experiences like this one. There is hope for us all. Jesus is just waiting for us to receive the healing that only He can give. I, for one, am not going to wait another day, to give out forgiveness and in return receive joy and peace. I also hold faith that I will soon be a slimmer me.
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