Stay Gold

July 12, 1964

Daddy made me scrub the whole house. He got mighty upset when I spilled his beer accidently. Knocked to the floor. Screamed at. Kicked like a dog. Nobody should be treated like this. I’m sure even the death row inmates weren’t treated as bad as I was.

I desperately wanted to flee the city, or maybe even the state. Start a new life. Find a husband, and have lots of babies. Anywhere would be better than this godforsaken place.

Say 'Goodbye' and 'Be gone' and 'be great' and be done and be free."

It’s getting late now, I should go to bed.

* * * *

“What the hell?” I thought to myself. Now I was really confused. If Gram wanted to leave so bad, why didn’t she? It was back in the old days, you could leave so easily. Why did she take being treated like that? It just didn’t make any sense.

I was about to read another page before my door swung open. I quickly tossed the diary under my bed, right as my mom walked in my room.

“What are you doing, Nalz? How was Gram’s house?” she asked.

“You know, Grammy-like,” I laughed, “She gave me some photo albums and stuff,” I said, directing her over to the box.

She picked up one of the albums, “Oh my...” she began, “Your father and I getting married!” she broke out in laughter. “I have to show him this, you don’t mind, do you, Nala?”

I shook my head, “Have at it!”

And with that, she left my room with the photo album.

I continued looking through the diary for a few more hours. Page after page, it was just Gram complaining about wanting to leave her father. Something, I don’t know what, made me feel for her. I felt a connection.

I felt the energy from it. It’s something that you can’t even explain. You just felt like you were there, in real life.

It was powerful.