Early Memories
~ Book I of the Winter Series~
CHRISTIAN
I remember a time when the world seemed perfect. Sunshine filled my days, laughter echoed around me, and I felt wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and love. Life was simple, full of games and hugs, and I was blissfully unaware of life’s complexities. In my little bubble, I felt secure, and the world was a place of wonder and joy.
But then, in an instant, everything changed. The bubble that shielded me from the harsh realities of the world burst, leaving me feeling exposed, alone, and heartbroken. That day remains etched in my memory, vivid and haunting, as if it happened just yesterday.
That fateful day I was in the car with my mother, snugly strapped into my car seat. I didn’t know our destination, but the soft music playing in the background was comforting. It was a cold, snowy day, with a sky covered in heavy, gray clouds. The barren trees outside blurred past, adding to the dreary atmosphere.
Momma was unusually quiet that day. When I called out to her, she didn’t respond. Her usual warmth and smiles were absent, replaced by silence and a distant gaze. I could see her reflection in the rearview mirror; her eyes were red and filled with tears, lost in thought.
Initially, I worried she might be upset with me, stirring a sadness inside me. I wanted to see her smile again, believing that if I could make her laugh, everything would return to normal. I tried my usual tricks—funny noises and silly faces—but nothing worked. Her silence persisted, and eventually, I fell quiet too.
The colorless landscape blurred by and the soft music was lulling me to sleep. That’s when my mother began speaking. I jerked awake, and even though I didn't understand everything she was saying I understood the urgency in her voice. Something important was about to happen.
‘Christian, I want you to be my brave boy,’ she said, her voice raw with emotion.
'I have to take you to a place where new people will take care of you. You will be safe there. But you must always remember what I told you, what we practiced. If you get the funny feeling inside, you hide, baby. Just like at home, OK? Don’t let anyone see you until the coast is clear. Do you know what I’m talking about?’
She pulled off the road and looked back at me to make sure I understood. I nodded quietly, my stomach doing flip flops.
The car was parked on side of the road, and it was quiet. I could hear Momma’s feet crunching in the snow as she walked around to my door. I sat in my seat, feeling wiggly and a little scared. Her shoulders looked all scrunched up. I didn’t like that.
When she opened my door, her face was all wet with tears. She looked really sad, and it made my tummy feel funny. I didn’t know why she was crying, but it made me want to cry too. Momma was always strong and brave, seeing her like this was very frightening.
I reached for her cheek with my chubby hand saying, “Momma, no cry.” I wanted her to know she wasn’t by herself.
She scooped my up from my seat and held me tight to her body, she was trembling and sobbing harder now. I hugged her with all my might. Just like she had always done with me when I was hurt or sad.
The memory of that day lingers, a shadow that won’t fade. It was when I first felt fear and uncertainty, emotions foreign to my young heart.
She carried me quickly to a large yellow house I had never seen before. She showed me a hiding place, under the stairs, "Hide in here sweetie until someone comes for you. It won't be long. Be brave my love, and don't cry." Then she gave me a lingering kiss on my forehead.
"Always Remember I love you!"
Then in a flash she was gone, hurrying back to her car.
"Momma?" I called, but she was gone.
As a child, I struggled to understand why she left me there, tears streaming down her face. The world felt upside down, but I clung to her promise, “Always remember, I love you,” like a lifeline in the darkness.
I crouched under the stairs, each second stretching into eternity. Every sound made my heart leap, hoping it was her returning. I was too young to grasp the complexities of that moment, yet I sensed something significant was happening.
The uncertainty of the future frightened me. Would someone come for me as she promised? My thoughts were a jumble of questions with no answers, but amidst the fear, I held onto the belief in her love.
She'd told me to stay hidden. I knew the rules, I’d heard them many times before. When Momma said it was time to hide, I knew she meant business.
The longer I sat there the more frightened I became. It was cold, dark and cobwebby under the stairs and I was terrified. My heart was beating frantically. The musty smell of earth tickled my nose. Momma told me not to cry and I wanted to obey, but fat tears stubbornly trickled down my cheeks anyway. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t stop...
Years have passed since that day, yet the memory lingers, as vivid as ever. Each time I close my eyes, the scene replays in my dreams, a haunting reminder of a time when the world seemed vast and terrifying. Yet, with each retelling, I find a new understanding, a new layer of strength within the boy who hid beneath the stairs.
In the end, it is not the fear that defines the memory. Looking back I realize it's the resilience that grew from it, a testament to the power of enduring even the darkest of moments.
