Anna Rothrock Childhood

Childhood

Anna Rothrock

Not knowing existence can be different. When Mom knows everything, and the depth of her knowledge is limitless.

Believing the whole world consists only of what you perceive. That the sky exists only as you see it. Endless and blue behind your brother’s face from where you stand, barefoot on the tips of his boots.

It is joy without reason. Brilliant memories that feel more real than the pain. Roaring bright lights that almost blot out the stains. The reason you say, “I am happy,” and the reason others almost believe it.

It is hurting and not knowing why. Not being seen but told you don’t need to be. When hiding makes the voices quieter, and closing your eyes makes the tears dry. It is not realizing that your pain comes with cumulative interest.

The reason you cry when you leave home and the reason you can’t stay.