Morning villa-1993

I am revising these parts of my book and will share them with you. Last week I posted Nothing on top of nothing 

https://lynzrealcooking.com/2017/08/16/a-update-on-the-book/

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Morning villa

 

A piercing pain roused me from a partial state of sleep and wakefulness. I peered out of one eye to see that things had not changed and were as I remembered them. Ten large boxes had been retrieved from the car-park area, lugged up the stairs and placed along the empty living room wall. Scraps of tape, labels and pieces of cardboard lay strewn along the coarse and ragged carpet.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, allowing my mind to have regrets for a brief instant. I had never authorized such sick and repugnant thoughts, nor had I conceded defeat until this moment. Pain locked my hips and back into a vicious cycle of roll and push, until I reached a crawling position. An intermittent grinding shifted through my stomach, signaling hunger that would no longer abate. My hair was drenched in perspiration, sweat dripped onto the worn brown blanket that had served as a bed for the children and I.

I pulled Foof next to her siblings and prepared to stand, one last glance at the children reassured me that everyone was accounted for. I reminded myself that I was fortunate, even spoiled as he repeatedly stated when the real me dared to surface. I searched for things to be grateful for, an old tattered brown and tan blanket and pillows that had been unwittingly tossed into boxes at the last-minute.

I surveyed the villa in the light of day and surmised that things looked much the same as they had the previous night, every line on the walls, each crack through the plywood and the lack of furniture had not changed.  I felt a sudden twinge of disbelief and bewilderment, building tension gave into pulsing words that could no longer be denied, “I do not have to be the perfect wife”. Repulsion gripped my entire being as I grappled with this foreign and abhorrent concept.  I composed myself and tried to remember that I was a God-fearing, good woman who had duties and responsibilities.

An unwavering resolve took over and I scanned the room for a way to bring cool air into this stagnant space. I reached up towards the brown plastic window and pulled back and forth until it relented. A gentle breeze made its way towards me, mucky sweat dried on my forehead and a momentary relief washed across the room.

The children moved restlessly back and forth, each holding firmly to their position on the bed that had been fashioned from the old brown blanket. It had not occurred to me that we would need food and water until my lips and mouth felt parched and sore. I wandered to the area that looked most like a kitchen and once again saw the sink that stood alone on the opposite wall. No stove, refrigerator or cupboards, no food or water were to be found.

I wiped my face and scoured the room; sure that he had left provisions for the day. A white plastic sack had been overlooked and sat randomly on the counter; five small bottles of warm water and 1 container of melted mango ice cream were the contents.

87 thoughts on “Morning villa-1993

  1. I share a little of your suffering Lynn, whenever I read of your hardships. Just a little tiny bit, because I could never truly know how much you had to endure whilst keeping positive for your children. I marvel, yet again, at what a brilliant job you’ve done of raising your loving family.

    Liked by 4 people

  2. I love your writing. It draws me in and I can see it in my mind exactly as you describe it. I know it is your life and what happens is so hard to read but it is beautifully written.

    Liked by 5 people

  3. To not succumb to the magnitude of your horrible circumstances is such a testament to your strength as a human being Lynn. I hope you see that as you write of this time in your life.

    Liked by 5 people

  4. So painful to read and so easy to be ignited to anger. I am angry. That you should have been in this position and that others, probably many others, endure similar. What on earth is this place that we call a civilized world. I thank you, Lynn, as I have thanked you before for having the courage to write such raw, resonant words. I know it is hard. And I can’t imagine how hard. Xxx

    Liked by 6 people

  5. Amazing how you managed it to always find ways to motivate yourself in this “wrong movie” you must have found yourself in. As Gail said… your strength is felt clearly and it helped you through those terrible years!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Your writing is getting better and better, your almost dispassionate detachment within the story makes it all the more powerful. Like everyone here, I don’t know how you had the strength, other than drawing it from the needs of your children. They must have pulled you through a lot that might otherwise have sunk you. I too send you a virtual hug 💜

    Liked by 2 people

  7. This is painfully sad. Always having to push your true feelings aside and feeling bad for them messes with your reality. This is very hard to fathom Lyn! Your writing took us right there. I don’t know how you survived this! Love and hugs to you!!!

    Liked by 2 people

  8. I really am liking the revisions…my hatred for your living situation you were in have been rekindled…I love this version…..oh my friend, I am sooooo happy you are in the US with all your children, and now beautiful grandbabies and a little girl on her way….couldn’t be happier for you…keep writing…..let it all out and feel the better for it….your are on of the most strongest woman I have met….one day we will share that hug ………..xxxxxxxx – your sister kat

    Like

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