Sometimes it's better to not take the plunge.
From November 26, 2007
We Didn’t Think About You
A friend asked me recently if I’d ever asked my parents if they knew what my sister was doing to me and, if so, then why did they never stop her?
The first answer is easy: no.
But it has a second, painful part. The real reason I never asked was I didn’t want to know. Frankly, I was scared of the possible answer.
Let me explain it like this: We had a very old sewing machine that I had the idea that I might fall heir to someday. It belonged to my paternal grandmother and we had it stored first at the farm and later in the garage when my parents moved to town.
One day a cousin asked dad if she could have it. He said he'd promised it to my sister. The cousin then asked her and she said the cousin could have it.
Granted, I’d never said I wanted it, but neither had it occurred to me that I had to. I’d assumed that since we’d had it I’d be given a chance at it. When I brought it up to my dad later said, “I’m sorry Leah. I guess we just didn’t think about you.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard this reason. There are only so many times I can hear “we just didn’t think about you.” I didn’t want to have to hear it again.
It’s absurd to suggest they didn’t know my sister was hitting and gouging me. She made quite a scene as she did it, screaming and stamping her feet, and would often rail afterward about how unfair it was. It would take a tremendous force of will to not notice. So I never asked. I had no wish to hear how they just didn’t think about me.