on hitching your wagon to a star

quartet love

I screamed at her calling her a bitch, grabbed my backpack and ran out the front door, to my friend’s house a mile away.  I was sixteen and had stayed with her for six months. I would need to find somewhere else to live. I would not speak to her for two years.

Anger clouded my judgment and although she had attempted to contact me I had completely shut her out.

Over time my anger transmuted to shame.  I replayed the incident and realized my ignorance.

She was not a hoarder but she had a lot of things. Too many.  She had tons of wigs: long hair, short hair, brown hair, black hair, straight hair and curly hair.  They were kept on mannequin heads throughout the various bedrooms.  She must have had hundreds of dresses.  They filled the closets in at least four bedrooms.  She had rows and rows of shoes neatly lined in individual…

View original post 580 more words


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.