Mom, I Know What I'll Say At Your Funeral.

Mom, I know what I'll say at your funeral.

I'll tell them three good memories of you. One of you showing me moonflowers.

One of you accidentally admitting to smoking pot in college, blushing and running away. Denying it from then on.

My earliest memory, your finger running over the words of books as you read them.

Then I'll tell them how you put the rabbits outside in their hutch when I could see they were terrified of being in the hot open air. How I begged you not to again and again. Finding their stiff, still bodies when I came home. How you left them alone out there and their hearts couldn't take it.

I wonder what the one who died last thought. I wonder how many hours they were alone, baking, terrified.

I'll tell them about how I found two kittens next to an empty cloth sack in the river. How I never knew if the others had run or just washed away.

I cleaned them and fed them, they were old enough to eat. Old enough to fight and survive. Still so wobbly, so covered in dirt and fleas and their own shit. I gently washed both of them, pet them, showed them kindness.

You called every friend you had to get someone to take them. Eventually they left to be farm cats. I could have run and hid with them, stolen them food- you had already started calling me fat and hiding any food it was easy for a child to make themselves. I knew the taste of baking ingredients, I knew how to steal better. I could have stolen for them. I could have run and kept them. They could have been mine.

But I didn't even understand that I could have just run yet. And I realized how much better they would have it somewhere else, even if it was just as farm cats. I sent them away to live a better life than I could in that house.

I once saw my babysitter being beaten by her father, I was only 12 and she went away to college the next year. I didn't trust my mom enough to tell her, and who else was there to tell? I learned to hide and avoid problems from my Dad, and she was his anchor. Wrapped right around his neck.

If you're young and reading this, just survive. Just get away. College is one way, don't let them talk you into taking extra classes - then move to another county and never pay it back. It'll be cheaper.

Or just run. Find a group that will help you through the Internet and go.

Or sign up to work on a cargo ship the second you turn 18.

Just don't stay there. Don't be like those rabbits dying on the porch, trapped. You're a human. You can open the cage and run. Just keep going one direction. Be kind when you can, but be free first