When my parents were together, my father wasn't always on-the-ball when it came to being an alert parent. Many days I'd returned home covered in bruises and cuts because I had fallen or gotten hurt somehow. These events happened often when I was in his care eve when I grew older. The worst being when I was around five years old.
It was a crisp fall afternoon on a Saturday (the day being a quite reoccurring motif you will pick up on). My father had taken me to the local park not too far from where I lived at the time. We ran through the grass and played on the teeter-totters until close to dinnertime.
The last I remember was him pushing me on the swings. I remember loving that feeling of flying as I slowly went up higher and higher. It was eventually though one point when it became too much. I was too high and I wanted down. I clung to the chains and called down to him. "Dad! Let me down!"
But he took no notice of it, in fact, he pushed harder, sending me further into the abyss around us. I kept yelling and begging he let me down but everytime, I found myself going higher and higher until I just stopped saying anything at all. I felt sweat drench my hand and grew scared of falling off. I shifted my hand on the chain to get a better grip but I did this at the wrong time. At the same moment, he delivered the biggest shove yet to the small of my back, catching me instead. I just remember the feeling of being rocketed off the seat and into the air in a moment of suspension before I came crashing down onto the cement below...
I think I skidded, but I'm not too sure. I remember opening my eyes and the world was moving in all sorts of directions. My father came over and stood me up fast, knocking me off-balance. He asked the preliminary questions of 'are you ok?' but I don't remember the speech between us.
I remember he dropped me off back at my mother's apartment and left before she could really see me. When I stepped into the light, I was covered in sand, dust and blood. Still disoriented, I gave my half-witted rendition to her and she immediately cleaned me up and brought me to hospital. I don't really remember that either, just a nurse asking me questions about my mom but I was insistent that I was with my dad. Needless to say I blamed him for that.
We were there for most likely a good many hours and I could return home to go to sleep. 'Concussion, wake her every hour' the doctor said to my mother so really, I didn't get much sleep that night.