Little Lost Girl, a survivor’s story

Little Girl Lost
Dedicated to the woman who has been found.
Anticipation sets in with each rotation of the wheels on the silver Dodge Caravan. Chatter of the older women echo through-out the vehicle. Over the Tacoma Narrows bridge it’s windy, as I watch the waves break, crashing against the rocks a freight train glides over the nearby tracks. We travel farther and the anticipation grows more. As we rounded the corner, I see McChord Air Force Base in the distance . The dark gray monster of a C-17 plane glided effortlessly over the runway as it approached it’s landing. Mount Rainier sitting tall in the distance, over shadowing the landscape with it’s snow capped ridges glistening in the sun. The place they called “God’s country” is in sight. I remember there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Down the winding road the wheels continue to take us on a magical adventure. Different birds can be heard chirping, the smell of a freshly mowed lawn adds a sweet fragrance to the scene in front of me. The water from the lake shimmering to the east, looks very inviting even though nobody would want to swim in that water. Just a few more minutes and we would arrive at our destination.
Standing tall in the glen, a skeleton of a once vibrant tree. It looks dead, but yet stands upright, bare branches, and old bark covering the aged flesh under it.. Everything around it shows signs of life—giant Evergreen trees lined up behind it a few yards away, almost as if they were standing guard. Tall hearty green grass encircle it. Oddly the tree reminded me of a feeble old man, while bent over from age, he was still going strong even with the help of a cane. It’s intoxicating and beautiful and I don’t know why?
I can’t take my eyes away from the monstrosity that stood in the distance. What was it’s story? A sheet of darkness blanketed the sky, the air became thick and it felt like one’s breath was taken away. In a split second, with enormous force the tree became a causality to a radiant beam of light followed by a deafening roar of thunder that shook the ground.. A once thriving tree now resembles that feeble man supported by the life that surrounds him. It was intoxicating and beautiful and I didn’t know why?
I remember my eyes being drawn to that tree whenever it was within sight. The energy and pull of that tree reminded me of drawing up water from a well, where at the end of the rope is a bucket of cold refreshing water; just waiting to be drunk. So strong that I have around 100 photographs of that tree from that weekend. It was intoxicating and beautiful and I didn’t know why?
I remember a time in the past, not a specific time because there had been so many. A little girl lost, unwanted, scared, alone—yet her life felt normal. Many men were attracted to this young girl, so innocent despite the sickness that she lived among—yet her life felt normal. The attention became the norm, she doesn’t try to attracted it, but would rather be left alone—yet she seems to be a stumbling block for so many. I remember feeling the touches, some were calloused, and some were wrinkled from old age. I remember those hands belonged to people that were supposed to be protecting me. With every touch and every gentle caressing; a sliver of herself fades into a dark abyss and hides away in the deep trenches of one’s being.
I can’t remember an exact moment, maybe because it has been built up over time. A little girl who was lost, alone, scared, unwanted, and ugly. The essence of a precious life in the depths of an empty shell. She tried everything in her being to find a glimmer of light, a glimmer of hope—yet her life felt normal.
In an instant my vision changed. The little girl now a teenager, but still so innocent despite the sickness that she lived among. After a day at school, she was excited to get home and finish her homework, she loved learning. It was warm for a mid April spring day. The sun shone bright in the sky, as she got off the school bus and started her walk up the long hilly dirt road that was the driveway to her castle, her protection from the evil of the outside world.
Wild flowers sweetened the air. The hum of power lines that lined the field to her right, seemed to play a perfectly matched cord to join with the choir of wild birds harmonizing in the distance, a lone woodpecker rapped against a tree in perfect tempo—she danced with her hands in the air as if she was the Maestro of nature’s magnificent orchestra. She thought she heard the rustling of bushes from a deer’s hiding place, she saw nothing, heard everything. The gravel under her feet crackle from the lack of moisture that usually drenches it’s path. Cresting the first hill, the dirt road seems endless. She knows the journey will be quick; her castle and her protection will be in her sight. To her this is the norm.
She crossed the over the murky moat to the waiting walls of her castle. Cresting the stairs made of cinder blocks and weathered 2X4s, the aroma of cedar and pine entwine the remnants of the winter’s fire wood stock pile that sustained the castles dark metal walls with warmth and love of a morning fire. Through the old trailer door was the inner fortress of that held the protection she craved. With the creak of the rickety handle, she glanced around her in fear of what was lurking unseen, she hurriedly opens the gate to her safety.
Residual smells held her nose hostage: the early morning fire, cookies baked with love for the children’s after school snack, stale cigarette smoke lay stagnant in the walls and on the furniture, to her this was the norm. The hint of pot, smoked just a few moments before she walked through the door engulfed her. The air thickened, she sensed a new evil, one she cannot escape.
Cowering at the 50’s era table she saw the two of them; the babysitter, to the young girl she was a monster one of pure evil and seated next to her, her stepmother, the one she thought was her protector. The evil one sat there, her eyes that glowed like scarlet rubies glared through the young girl and her finger nails which resembled claws tapped the table. Rat—a—tat—tat. Her protector was helpless, an unwilling participant in the masquerade that was about to unfold. The evil one spoke for the both of them as the protector sat in silence.
The little girl memories emerge. The girl of fourteen tried to engulf, to cradle her, to protect her from the wrath of the evil one. A memory floods the girl of fourteen, she is seated on a courts stand, she is the lost girl. The crowd of people stared at her. She felt confused, overwhelm, and unprotected.
She stood at attention because she didn’t know what else to do. The evil one screeched, but the only conceivable words the little girl could make out, so innocent, despite the evil that surrounded her was, “You’ve been caught!”. The little girl of fourteen trembles in fear. What could she have done? Bewildered she soon gains the knowledge that she had been seeking. It was about her brother, a little wee lad of five-years-old. Emotions filled her, disbelief raged within, memories flooded her being, some of calloused hands, some wrinkled from time. Innocence lost at the same age as the ginger haired, freckled face little boy that she loved beyond herself. The fourteen year old girl with a new kind of innocence lost. The inconceivable hatred the evil one has invoked within girl was something that she had never known before. She looked into the eyes of the silent protector she pleaded for her to stop the evil one. With tears streaming down her face she asked the protector, “How could you think that I would want to ever harm someone that I love, the way I have been?”.
The protector continues to sit in silence. Afraid to believe either the evil one or the girl of fourteen, in fear for her son.
The little girl, lost, alone, scared, unwanted, ugly, consumes the girl of fourteen, pleading for any sliver of hope that this is a nightmare. A far worse nightmare then she can have ever imagined. With nowhere to run, she is captured. She is sent to the chambers. The once safe solace where she had laid her head. The girl of fourteen breaks through sobbing uncontrollably. She has now become a girl of fourteen lost, alone, scared, unwanted, ugly. Not realizing what she was doing, she feels the cold slice of a razor blade. The room is silent, The only thought is escape. The only escape is revealed in the trickle of warm blood that glided across her wrist. Superficial flesh wound, yet a heart broken into pieces. She had withdrawn deeper into the dark abyss that had lay dormant for all these years. This would become her new kind of norm.
Standing tall in the glen, a skeleton of a once vibrant tree. It looks dead, but yet stands upright, bare branches, and old bark covering the aged flesh under it.. Everything around it shows signs of life—giant Evergreen trees lined up behind it a few yards away, almost as if they were standing guard. Tall hearty green grass encircle it. Oddly the tree reminded me of a feeble old man, while bent over from age, he was still going strong even with the help of a cane. It’s intoxicating and beautiful and I don’t know why?
The little girl, lost, alone, scared, unwanted, ugly, is in her thirties. She is a mother, a wife. A woman that is lost, alone, scared, unwanted, ugly. She had been consumed with all of these feelings since that fateful day, yet she see beauty in a tree that looks dead. The tree was once vibrant and so is she. Her hope came to her in the form of a voice. “My child you are so loved, you see this tree and you see it’s beauty. Why do you not see the beauty that I see?”
My eyes focused on that tree, the connection that I felt continued to pull my emotions. The revelation hit like a ton of bricks. The tree is me. It’s intoxicating and beautiful, and I begin to understand why. God doesn’t make mistakes, he has made me beautiful, even though I can’t see it. He has opened my eyes, and my heart is overjoyed.
Standing tall in the glen, a skeleton of a once vibrant tree. It looks dead, but yet stands upright, bare branches, and old bark covering the aged flesh under it.. Everything around it shows signs of life—giant Evergreen trees lined up behind it a few yards away, almost as if they were standing guard. Tall hearty green grass encircle it. Oddly the tree reminded me of a feeble old man, while bent over from age, he was still going strong even with the help of a cane. It’s intoxicating and beautiful and now I know why?