TADPOLES

I really haven't thought about this one in so very long. But then out of nowhere I did. That's how it always goes. I took my class outside to the little creek. Our final celebration for the end of school. We were picking up trash and watching the ducks ;the birds.  And there they were; those little black tadpoles. I got so excited and showed my kids and we talked about how they were little frogs.  The kids were excited to and asked lots of questions.  It was truly sweet.  There were millions of them.  As soon as the kids were on their own exploring my mind goes to when I was small. My thoughts automatically went to when I was little, and my little tadpoles that I was so happy about were crushed because I was told that next time I wouldn't fight.  This is one of those memories that has more emotion than I ever imagined.  That has hurt me more because it was more than me.  I wasn't the only one being hurt it was those little tadpoles that I could not save, that I felt were the most important things.  I could not save them.  And there were a few moments that I was overtaken by the memory the feeling the sadness and then I had the kids in my class.  There was no time to stop and think about the awful, I had my bright happy kids excited for our final celebration.  I am sure that I was more than suprised because really, I have cried and talked this to death.  Should I really be that affected by a creek full of tadpoles ??  Maybe I should not be affected but I was.  And it has bothered me since and I just just can't get it out of my mind.  haven't I cried and talked about this enough I don't even understand why this is even an issue anymore,

Maybe this time I am seeing it different,  seeing that I feel more for those tadpoles than what happened to me.  I feel worse that I could not save them then what Albert did to me in the van.  Everything is just so clear.  The red van, the creek, the trees,  those big black boots, his long legs and yes I would know his face but I don't really remember seeing him.  I vaguely remember the meanness the pleasure on his face but not specific details; I knew it was him,  I remember every little detail, but his face I don't really remember his face.  My heart hurts.  Its just so sad I can remember being so excited,  playing in that creek the weather was just perfect.  The sun was out those huge billowy clouds, the perfect breeze.  And all those perfect things there was also the awful unthinkable unimaginable.  The pain,  the bean bags  my shaky little legs, my body hurt , remembering my little hands, not having any nails to pick up those tadpoles, only crying because I couldn't pick them up fast enough and he stepped on them.  He stepped on them with those big black boots and bent down and told me that next time I wouldn't fight.  

And the tears rolling down my face as I tried to pick them up and put them back in the bucket,  my fingers just couldn't get them off the cement fast enough.  Those boots those crushing boots he stepped on them I couldn't save them, in my world that was one of the worst things ever worse even than the rape.  Maybe if I had just left them at the pond, if I just moves faster after he raped me.  So many things ran through my mind if I could have done something different to save them.  They mattered .  I was this innocent little kid playing in the park and he ruined it, he hurt me and killed my tadpoles.  How do I live with that.  How do I pretend that I am not broken because of that. How do I see a tadpole with out getting sad and without that whisper of I am so sorry in my head that I just couldn't save them.  It hurts.  It hurts so much even after all this time.  I just wanted to play, to be a little kid, to protect something, and I just could not do it.

How is it that I even went with him knowing the person that he was.  When he told me to put the bucket down and he took my hand to the van, why did I go, why didn't I go the other way.  There were other people there, his mother was there.  I mean I could have said something right ?? But I said nothing and I followed him to the back of the van.  Things get fuzzy, so surreal.  I see it like it was yesterday and still I question how did I survive that ?  How did I go on with life like nothing happened.  I mean that is what I always did but how did I do that, how did I handle it all ??  I don't remember crying I think I already knew better what difference did it make anyway; none I had already learned that people don't listen.  I was not going to waste my tears on him.  But oh my little body hurt.  I can remember thinking that there was no way I was going to be able to walk back to where I was playing.  I remember my legs shaking, and walking was difficult.  I can remember thinking why is this happening on such a beautiful day,  why,  why !!  

He was just sitting there at the picnic table, like nothing had happened I only wanted to check on those tadpoles make sure that they were ok.  They were my joy that day.  I was taking care of them, they made me happy.  It felt like it took me forever to make it back to them.  I went to get the bucket by the picnic table and go back to the creek. But he kicked it over and bent down next to me and said that next time I wouldn't fight.  Then the tears, as he started stepping all over them.  And that smirk he knew what he was doing.  Telling me not to fight I was 5 he was in his early 20's.  I knew better I don't remember fighting or resisting at all, I knew that would only make things worse.  So you just do what you are told.   And my fingers hurt I had no nails no nails at all and I couldn't pick them up fast enough.  He killed my tadpoles,  that is what bothered me that is what hurt my heart the most.

So all these years later here I am again feeling all that I did that day.  And the feeling that I have is all for the tadpoles, those little tiny almost baby frogs.  That is what I felt anything for.  Me I just had to go on it was done there was no way to make the pain go away make it any better that was my life.  But I was going to make a better life for those tadpoles.  I was going to save them only I couldn't.  And that is one of the parts that I need to change.  If I felt a fraction for little me as I did for those little animals, I think things would be very different.  Some where in my brain they never once deserves to be stepped on.  But for me, well I was gross and disgusting and I deserved the rape that day in the back of the van on the bean bags.  That sucks to say, that doesn't feel right,  but I don't know how to feel for her.  I can't make it better and neither can anyone else.  I can't go back I can't get that time I can't get back what was taken.  I can not change it make it any different and I would give so so much to make it different to be protected, to be safe. So where do I go from here ?  What happens next ?  Will I ever stop being so sad about this ? 

Toni Childs Dreamer 

I heart your heart .