Snipping Dahlias part 3

After quickly saying my goodbyes and showing gratitude for my floral gift, I carried my fragile flower to the car. I try to get home as fast as I can. All I can think of is getting online and finding ways to save this flower. I had seen my aunt do it a thousand times before. She would randomly walk past someones garden and pluck a small handful of whatever green had caught her eye. She would replant them and grow the most beautiful plants, even trees from her green sticky fingered flybys.

For a long time I had pushed this side of me down, deep down inside and locked it away. That awakening feeling of hope and a better ending sparked inside of me a handful of years of not even thinking of, let alone believing in fairies. Not dodging or even noticing the goblins. a feeling I didn’t dare acknowledge for many years. I was numb until today. I had been delt a real shitty hand. Given a cactus, sometimes prayed for lemons but a cactus is what I got, and was told to work with it. I tried, believe me I did for a while.

As I zipped through the traffic in auto drive, my mind wondered into the place I locked away years ago. I regressed to 9 year old me. I looked around, I am alone, I have a suitcase in the middle of a busy train station.

Did she really leave me here? I just want to go back home. I promise I won’t be like my father anymore I’ll change my ways. If your boyfriend hurts me again, I promise I won’t say a word this time. I don’t want to see you unhappy. I AM NOT LIKE MY FATHER!!!


My cries for help went unheard and unanswered.

I was collected like a package. I was torn with conflicting emotion. I had a deep love for my father I was daddy’s little girl his only child, until he left when I was 5. I still loved him deeply. Even after seeing him beat my siblings and punch my mother to the ground. Watching him cry as my mother lay on the floor at his feet. Even then as small as I was, I knew it was because he felt guilty. But I just wanted him to stop crying and hug us and stay and be a family. I handed him my toy phone with the googly eyes and a smiley face. He took it and placed it on the ground and left. I didn’t see him again until a few weeks before being left at the train station. I loved my father, but my life was with my mother, my brothers and my sister. Who was I to lay next to now? and tell make belief stories of being teleported to planet Venus and being rescued by my real family who were rich, and loving and our family was whole and peaceful. I know bad things happened with my mother and I do want to be with my father, but what was I heading into? Where was I going? Will they love me?

I don’t remember much of the journey to my fathers home. I step over the threshold.


I may not have seen it then and more heartache will come. But remember I am here, telling you my story. It will make up the person behind your screen now. I wouldn’t want me any other way. It does get better.

I reached my house, dahlia in hand and set out on my mission to nurse my flower back to health.

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