Voices from Childhood

        A letter to my parents...well, it's hard to put the word 'dear' before your names.  It's impossible to call you 'mother' or 'father.'   But I do remember you, and I'd like you both to share in some of my memories.  I remember....I remember Mama.  I remember Mama bringing me a stuffed parrot the size of an Australian cattle dog that sat inside a wooden wheel as big as a bicycle tire.  I was 19 and living in a tiny room at the YWCA.  The point of the parrot was to brighten up the room.  You always liked things to look cheerful, didn't you Mama?  
         Why did the room need cheering up?  Well, it was inhabited by a 19 year old girl who from birth had been in the custody of her biological parents, and that was a horrible fate. Two adults who hated themselves and had been abused by their parents.  You two...and you two expressed your consequent rage and self-hate by using your children as targets.  Make the children feel guilty, make them feel inferior so you can feel superior.  Use them as housemaids to get revenge on all that cleaning you had to do.  You can even use them as tools to have orgasms, right Dad?  They won't talk back or make you feel inadequate. Their fear makes you feel like a big man, doesn't it, Dad?
         Remember when you used to laugh, Mom, as you were saying goodbye to go to your knitting group?  You laughed because you were leaving us 'with Daddy', and you knew he usually lost control and was violent towards us when you were gone.  That was funny. "Bye, kids!,"  Smile, laugh.  "Have fun!"  It was so confusing, I actually smiled back, not able to conceive that my mother was actually making fun of our fear and anxiety.
         At 19 I ended up at a room at the 'Y'.  Severely depressed, having failed out of college, barely able to make the rent by waitressing, and crying every night because I never had a mother or a father.  Wondering how I would ever make the transition to wife and mother without ever being a daughter first.
           By the way, thanks for the parrot, but it didn't really help make me feel better.  Good try, though!  I'm sure a grateful daughter would have appreciated it, but I brought it back to the store.  You would have thought that a gigantic stuffed parrot swinging from the ceiling would have made up for some things, wouldn't you?,  but I was always difficult.  In fact, as you pointed out to me, Mama, I was born angry.  Poor you, fated to give birth to an angry baby.
            I haven't seen or talked to either of you in 20 years, and I never will.  I'm still working on eradicating your behavior from my psyche though, and that's a lot of pollution to bail out of myself. 
            It's quite an injustice that there's a statute of limitations which prevents me from seeing both of you in court, but I'm doing what I can to change that.  You should pay for your crimes. like any other criminal.
             You actually believe that all the crimes you committed against your children were 'no one's fault.'  Your narcissism is astounding, and you called me, when I was a child, self-centered.  Self-centeredness in a child is normal, but yours is evil and criminal.
 
 
                                   I never was, and never will be, your daughter,
                                                            Cynthia

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