Visiting my home town feels like visiting the ghost of the past me. I haven’t even arrived yet, but I feel my heart beating faster.
It’s visiting the scars that made me a tiger.
It’s paying dues to the people that witnessed my metamorphosis.
I remember my girlfriends talking about me at my mother funeral service as if I didn’t hear them. “She’s so strong” they said …. I was left guardian of my five younger sisters & brothers but I was also watcher of my older brother who was recovering from addiction. I had a crappy boyfriend who was also a child of mine. I was 21.
Somehow I managed to break myself free of the land & people that made me think life was similar to slavery.
It’s been almost 10 years, I think.
My mother made me promise I would visit her grave, it was important to her. As if I could forget her. Doesn’t she know she would follow me everywhere? Her and my father. How they died, the life they didn’t get to live, follows me everywhere.
So we are on our way to a cave, a pit stop. I’m worried I won’t make it in time to my parents grave… But I would rather crawl in a cave… Literally.
I have always been the girl that digs deep.
This feels deep.