"If you carry your childhood with you, you never become old"

So many times in our adult lives, we question why things happen or why they do not. If you are a philosopher the question can be answered based on determinism or another philosophical branch.If you are an atheist, you can find reason in the non-existence of a superior entity or as an agnostic a sense of inability to prove the existence or non-existence of a higher power. People of faith sometimes sway grasping fast to their limb but at times fall somewhere else upon the tree. The steadfast believers feel inside a knowing that the mystery is not ours to unravel no matter how angry, sad or frustrated we may become.

Children are different. It is easier for them to believe in magic, in Santa, the Tooth Fairy or Prince and Princess Charming.When I was a little girl, I said my prayers each night for many years. The nightly ritual became as much a part of bedtime as sleeping, dreaming or breathing. Over the past 10 years or so there have been many a time to question, but recently I had a memory that I hold onto, petrified that now that I am grown I can no longer own it.

I grew up loved, I have no doubt of that, but I was surrounded by sudden, unpredictable acts of anger and violence. I spent many hours inside of my bedroom closet. I hid beneath the clothes that I desperately yanked from the hangers above, allowing just enough space for air. So how does a young child cope when faced with such frightening events? What does she do when she can't get to the one person in her life that offers safety? Well, I was lucky, I had my grandparents. I sometimes have forgotten about the amount of time we conversed when I had nowhere to turn. I was never pushed away there was always time to talk to me, to make me feel safe, to let me know it be okay in the end. Without the feeling of love that they gave me would not be the person I am today.