"Zoom." "Zoooooomm." "Honk!" I listen to the busy street from my side of the "safety" fence. I sit on the warm cement in my pretty pink lacey dress, and my now scuffed white dress shoes. As I listen to the beautiful music of the passing cars, I plunk out a song only my three-year-old self would like.

For a few brief moments, I do believe that I was half happy. The honk of a goose-flying over-head snaps me out of my reverie. A dream of a family. One that smiles, holds hands, laughing faces, and no screaming or pain. I giggle at the thought of this type of family, but am stopped short from the shrill of a ringing phone from inside the house.

First I think maybe it's Her, but I know She hasn't called or been around for a while. So I continue playing my piano as if no phone has rang because I know the phone couldn't possibly be for me. Once again I was interrupted from my song, but this time someone has called my name.

I am a little shocked at first that I had been called in, but I had been called, so I had to go see what was needed of me. So I made the little trek back to the old house that I hated so much and longed to get away from. The sweet wind, which smelled like peaches because of the peach trees in the yard, blew my long black hair out around me as if it was my invisible protective coat.

When I reached the opened door I was greeted with the, "You couldn't possibly walk any slower, could you," remark. I was then pointed to go stand near the phone to talk because I wasn't allowed to sit in the chair and talk. The last time I sat in the chair and talked, I accidentally yanked the phone of the wall and I got in huge trouble. I then reached for the phone in the out stretched hand of my "new mommy."

I hate the face that my "new mommy" has when She calls. It's red and angry and she narrows her eyes. Because of this look she has, I know who is on the other end of the phone before I even say hello. But then I remember that She hasn't been around for a really long time because She has been a bad Mommy and is broken and needs fixed in the "Bad Place", so it may not even be Her after all. She has probably forgotten all about me by now. So I hesitate in answering the phone.

At this hesitation, my "new mommy" says, "Are you going to answer before Christmas? Wake up and quit daydreaming. You're wasting my time." So I take the phone so I don't get yelled at. Needless to say, I answered, and it was Her. She hadn't forgotten me after all.

"Hi sweetheart. How are you doing? Being a good girl for Daddy," she says.

"I am good. Yes, I am good for Daddy. I miss you Mommy. When are you coming home," I reply.

There was a long pause at Her end. The only reason I could think of her quietness would be because she was at the "Bad Place" again and didn't know when She'd be back.

"Well Baby (pause), Mommy's going to gone for a little while. Mommy really does miss you. Mommy loves you and won't forget..."

I don't get to hear the rest of what she says because the phone had been snatched away by my "new mommy." I wanted to yell and scream and tell her how mean she was for taking the phone from me, but I had already learnt that lesson. I had gotten the phone back when I learned that lesson, but in addition to something else. And I didn't get to talk on the phone either. I remembered that I didn't want it again. So I was helpless.

The only thing left for me was to stare out the window because I wasn't told to return outside yet. If I went outside before I was told I could, I'd get in trouble. I would have to go to my room and pretend like I could count. I would count all the cracks in my walls. Out the window was a lonely blue jay that was perched on the peach tree outside the dining room window. He looked at me so sad, tilling his head one side to the other as if trying to understand the screaming that I was trying not to listen to. I don't really know what was said, or what really went on, but I did know what "never going to see her again" meant.

Being a three-year-old, I didn't know then that "never" meant never ever. I always thought never meant that she'd just show up one day like she always did. She’d kiss me and hug me and tell me "Mommy was okay again" and try to go on like normal.

When the screaming over the phone was over, she smashed the phone into its cradle and shouted at me to go back outside. As I left she swore the whole time. I didn't look at her as I walked by; I didn't want to see her face glaring her evil, scary look at me. I slowly opened the creaky door and let it slam as I walked out. Once I was all the way outside I let myself cry. I can't cry in front of her because then I am given something to cry about, I didn't want that.

Hot acidic tears rolled down my perfect porcelain face as the soft peachy air blew baby pink rose petals around my feet. It seemed like Mother Nature was trying to comfort my broken heart. The roses that helped plant, water, and take care of didn't want to see me sad. The wind swirled them about my feet, then blew them swirling around me and into my long dark hair. When I had reached the destination of my escape, my piano, I dropped to my knees. I remember falling so hard that I scrapped my knees. I just sat there and cried a while. I sat there long enough to watch the sunset. At this lonely sight, I played a lonely, despairing tune that had been screaming to be let out or my little chest would burst.

When my tears had ceded, I decided that I was going to make a vow to myself and to the God who watched me and protected me. I vowed that I would never become what my mother was. I never wanted to put my children through what I went through and the years to come. I wanted to always be there for them and to never leave, so that their Daddy wouldn't have to replace me. I also decided that I was going to grow up and become the bigger person. I was not going to let crap over come my life. I decided that I wanted to grow up and be the person who helps sad, broken people as myself. I also decided that I was going to do my darn best to make a difference in my world and no one was going to get in my way.