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Memories

Writer's picture: Liezel BachLiezel Bach

When I was eight years old I lived with my mom in an apartment.

On some nights she went out with friends and I used to dance alone in the living room to a music channel with no visual, only a snowy, black and white background. I inherited my love for ballet from my grandma.

I deep-fried my own golden smackeroos, mixed mayo and tomato sauce to make seafood mayo and I'm not sure when or if I had a bath. I can't remember the bathroom in that apartment. I'm sure I fell asleep on the couch a few times, but mostly I would sleep in my bed. In the mornings I woke, a bit apprehensive of entering my mom's room. I had done so one morning and there was a man I didn't know there.


I was never afraid. Not of being alone or the dark. You can't be afraid if you are operating in survival mode.

I never knew I was operating in survival mode then, but looking back now I recognise that although I had parents (and a grandma who always made sure that I knew how much she loved me) I was neglected.


One day, my mom gave me tuck shop money. During the day at school, there was an announcement. They were selling flowers. I used my tuck shop money to buy my mom two bunches of white Gypse. The delicate white flowers were so beautiful. She was sad that morning and I though it would help her feel better. I think it did cheer her up. I'm not sure if it occured to her that, because I bought the flowers, I hadn't eaten that day. It didn't occur to me then. I just wanted my mom to be happy and to see me.


I often think of that little girl, alone in the apartment, left to her own devices and imagination for entertainment and stimulation. I was eight. Is that too young to look after yourself?


In grade 4 my mom started taking me to the library weekly. I loved that. I loved that she was interested and asked me about the books I read. I studied really hard in grade 4. It was my first year writing exams and I did so well. A year later things changed again. I know she tried. Somehow it just never worked out.


Every now and again these memories surface. I go through a range of emotions when they do. I get angry, I go quiet and become distant, but the emotion that never leaves me is sadness. All the rest I have learnt to process, but sadness has still got one up on me. I'm still working through that.


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