Content Notice: This story contains references to Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse
Sometimes I find with deep sadness that my name is Carol, like a Christmas carol.
My uncle described a crime that occurred every Christmas at a dinner when he had been drinking. My mother says I didn’t hear it, but he described a crime against humanity that recurred every Christmas eve. Suddenly, I understood the biases in his jokes as defending him against this pain.
I look at my Christmas dishes sometimes and think back in time to that moment.
I won’t burden you with the words. I did that to an audience once and they started to hear things that I didn’t even say. I realized at that moment that nobody really knows you; we are constantly transforming and evolving as human beings.
In the second grade, I remember my grandfather molesting me on a porch made out of marble slabs by his farmhouse under the pine trees. He told me that my body was basically a toy for playing.