Family Short Story – Waiting…Patiently
Photo credit: Carool from morguefile.com
It has been almost 5 years since I moved to California with my aunt. When I first started living with her, things weren’t what I thought they would be. Danny, her abusive husband who always came home drunk, made living with her an absolute nightmare. In the middle of the night I would wake up to the sounds of them arguing and glass shattering.
For days and days on end, I prayed that a miracle would happen. But soon those days turned into weeks, those weeks turned into months, and those months turned into years. My aunt told me that things would get better soon, but something on the inside of me refused to believe it.
When I was finally old enough to attend middle school, my aunt and her husband had gotten a divorce. I expected things to get better, but somehow we were still broken like the glass that shattered up against the cold floors at night. Even though my aunt pretended that everything would be just fine, I knew deep down inside that it wasn’t. Every night when my aunt thought I had gone to bed, I would creep out back doors to meet that special someone who was waiting patiently just for me.
I never thought that someone would be able to love me, for I was the poorest girl in school. I had wispy, golden brown hair that seemed to glow every time I was in the sunlight. My clothes were so tattered to the point wear I had to beg my home arts teacher to sew them together before I went to class. Somehow, Jonah didn’t seem to mind. At lunch I sat by myself, secluded from the rest of the North Ridge population. No one ever said a word to me, until that day we got a new student.
After school on my way home, the kids made fun of me. They called me raggedy Anne other bad names that I wouldn’t dare repeat. I ran upstairs to my room and slammed the door as hard as I could. I wanted my aunt to know exactly how I was feeling, but I couldn’t tell her because the only thing she would tell me was “It’s gonna be alright, I promise.” I hated hearing those words. It seems like every time she says that it turns out to be the exact opposite.
As I sat on that cold hard floor, I began to realize that my aunt always seemed to have this weird sort of attitude. She had hope. Even through all of the rough times she had faith that everything will turn out just fine in the end. I guess I need to have that same type of attitude, so I will be waiting…patiently for things to get better.
–END–
