Childhood memory.

I was a tortured soul always bored with my existence, gaining petulance for life with every mundane detail I, unfortunately, observed.  I grasped on to such fantasies such at gargoyles, princesses and mystical creatures that dwelt in the midst of a fanciful forest.  I longed for the surreal to become my reality.  Holidays were also a relief for the ruts of life.  Ideas of the Easter Bunny and Santa Clause were favorable and much believed in my childhood.  Having no evidence of the great supernatural being an non-fictional part of life I was steadfast in my faith that there was something superlative about life that lied deep within the mysteries of the world and only made known to those who seek it most persistently.  I set forth a goal to make myself known to the unknown.  

Dwelling on a predictable existence was not the only past time I engaged in.  Instead I found myself observing others.  My mind was highly developed for a seven year old leading me to keep my thoughts to myself due to the fact I was extremely misunderstood.  While sitting aloof on the top of my stairs covered in brown shag carpet, I witnessed contention between my beloved mother and my impertinent brother.  The basis of their confrontation is still a blur to this day but the memory of their actions remains vivid in my mind today.  Such profanities that were used by my brother were surprising to me.  My mother defended her argument and raised her finger and raised-her-voice, nay, yelled, nay, screamed, nay, roared with a gnarling snare at my brother's face offending him to the fullest.  The tempest was raging beneath my brother's brow and crimson overtook the fair color of his skin.  His mannerisms predicted his next move, and caused my heart to sink into the pit of my stomach.  My brother raised his palms and shoved my mother down on to a pile of hangers.  Guilt and grief took over my brother's raging expression the minute her heavy body slammed on the floor and began to weep.  I suddenly felt agitated with myself that  was merely an observer in this violent dispute and was not there to catch my mother when she fell.  I ran into the room where my brother stood stupefied from his actions.  I immediately ran to my mother's aid when she began to erect herself from the pile of hangers that were disheveled under her.  "Get out of my house."  Where the only words my mother spoke to my brother after the incident.  I escorted my mother out down the stairs to gain composer on our retro couches.  

We sat in silence.  My mother no longer sad but victorious that she won the battle.  We could hear my brother packing his belongings from him room upstairs.

"Are you okay Mommy?"  My inquire was innocent.  

"I'm fine my baby."  She answered as a mother ought to; With ease and contentment.  

I appreciated my mother's efforts to calm my troubled mind with what I had just witnessed but I had already calmed myself.  I sat in my mother's arms worried about where my brother would go.  Sadness crept over me when I came to the thought that, I was too late to find true fairy tails in the world.  My family is becoming broken. I wanted more than ever for the unworldly to salute me and rescue me from an life full of prediction and turmoil!  I was comforted with the knowledge that proof of at least one fanciful character was real, and that Mr. Clause knew that I believed in him.  But, all great ideas come to an end.

"Honey, I need to tell you something."  My mother said interrupting my thoughts.  I gazed up at her with a puzzled expression.

"Honey, there is no Santa Clause."  She replied to my look.  I was speechless.

"Who brings the presents?"  It was the only question I squeezed out of my voiceless throat.

"Me and Daddy."  She replied with a comforting tone picking up on my uneasiness. 

"But they reindeers eat the carrots and Santa eats the milk and cookies."  I argued her statement. 

"No sweetie.  That was me and Daddy eating them."  Everything started to connect in my mind.  The late night, last minute shopping trips, catching my parents wrapping presents on Christmas Eve, discovering hidden presents in closets that were later addressed from Santa Clause himself suddenly all made sense.  I felt dumb and embarrassed that a developed mind such as myself skimmed over the truth a dozen times.  My mother sat still observing my expressionless face.  I felt a lump in my throat trying to work its way up into my eyes.  I forced the tears down to mask my utter disappointment with life.  I sat pondering that ignorance would have been better.  My only tinge of faith for a life of excitement vanished all with one sentence performed by my mother.  An act, that's all life was, was an act.  Damn Liars, repeated over and over again in my mind.  

"Aw honey, It's okay.  I'm so sorry."  My mother said with extreme comfort and apology.  Her maternal voice made me sob.  My tears betrayed me, streaming down my cheek profusely.  

Crushed dreams and shattered faith consumed me for the entire day.  I felt as though my brain was full of cement, heavy and unable to comprehend the disdain I held for my future.  I longed for normality in my life and for my thinking to be cleared by a simple companion or a childish game.  This memory will forever dwell in my mind and always remind me of the gift of innocents.