Band-Aids and Bows
For years I held onto my hurt. I smothered it with a band-aid of sarcasm for
so long that it couldn’t scab over and heal.
For so long, I held onto my anger.
I wrapped it around me and tied it with a pretty smile of a bow. All that angry wrapping paper did was soak up
tears and confusion.
My nights were regularly visited by a baby blue hatchback leaving
me; a stranger’s hand holding mine, keeping me from running after the
driver. When that little hatchback wasn’t
driving out of my life in the middle of the night, her face visited me. And she left me; over and over she left
me. There were so many different
scenarios, always- but the ending never changed. She would leave. Every time. Memories that hurt too much for a two year
old to comprehend. Band-aids and bows.
Her calls became dubbed “Random Acts of Guilt”, her visits were
called “Leap Year”. Band-aids and
bows. Hurt me and I hurt you. I never understood any of it. Why drive away and then call? Why leave me with strangers and then want to
visit? That seemed crueler than my not
wanting to answer a call or accept a visit.
These feelings are too confusing and too complicated for a
child to keep inside. So I talked. I talked to my father in heaven and I talked
to God. I begged Him to help me
understand. I still don’t understand,
but He gave me the knowledge that it was meant to be; just never why it was meant to be. So, I kept talking to Him. Eventually, the band-aid fell off and I let my
raw hurt be exposed to the elements. I
cried at the pain, but eventually those elements helped scab over and heal my
wound. Eventually my bow fell away and
my anger let out. It was ugly and it
howled and roared and lashed out at everyone around me. But eventually, my smile wasn’t a bow. It just was. I had forgiven.
Then I noticed that I slept through the night. No cars driving away from me. No strangers keeping me from her. No teary-eyed pillows. Talking with God had allowed me to
forgive. In doing so, I had been given
the greatest gift of all. I had my
freedom.
