Dear Diary I am about 12 years old…

Dear diary, I remember this was when I got to start babysitting….

I tried my hand one time at making cookies in moms kitchen, too much salt…

I remember after the boob incident things quieted down and excitement was building…

I spent a week with a family in Florida and was raped… he was a SSgt in the Air Force…

Mom and dad came to get me, I never spoke of the rape….

Dad leaves for Vietnam, mom sells our trailer and we move to Bonita… mom’s boyfriend lives in the area… Auntie knew… everyone knew…

I was molested again… Sister was not nice, in fact we had no relationship….

Mom has a breakdown, more like a panic attack and makes it out to be more serious than it was… she was pregnant and dad was in Vietnam…

I spent my time between the house and the farm… always welcomed around aunt Neece…

Dad was brought back from Vietnam…. and we were moved to Big Springs, Texas…

We lived in a craftsman style home with a big cement porch, wood floors that always gave splinters… kitchen off to the right, living room on the left…. I won a dozen roses for mothers day, off the radio station…

Mom getting big and fat from her lovers baby… dad knew… but he loved her… but he knew…

Dear diary… by this time I had been baptised twice, thinking I must be an awful child for being raped a couple of times and all the beating mommy dished out and dad’s contributions…

My last memory before I died… mom asking me this question… all my siblings around the table eating dinner, she asked why they had to get married and I pipped up and said, “because you got pregnant with me”… and she yelled back… “do you want to get slapped”… my siblings giggling… I knew how to piss off the mommy….

Dear diary what comes next took so much including my light… all because of sex..

TimesUp #MeToo WhyIDidntTell

I Remember… Margie… always a quick remark…

Sgt. USAF DAV