Copyright Pending
2010 - Eltingville, Staten Island
I arrived at the house where I was raised at 4pm on warm humid summer day in August; standing in front of the white screen door getting ready to ring the doorbell to announce my surprise visit after 24 years. I took in a deep breath as I mustered up the courage to continue with my actions. I was self-aware of my emotions both filled with trepidation and anticipation to face the woman that lived here for over thirty years, my stepmother, Florence. I could feel the sweat dripping down my back not so much from the humidity of the summer heat but from my nerves as I pressed my finger to the ancient worn out doorbell.
I could hear the muffled ding dong of the bell beyond the door and then the instant yap, yap, yap of a small dog responding to the notification of my presence. There was no sound of anybody approaching as of yet so I turned around to scan the block that I grew up on so many years ago. Retford Avenue was a strip of cookie cutter duplex homes on both the east and west sides of the street. The redundancy of each home was separated by the individuality expressed by the owners landscaping or contemporary renovations made to these old homes. I found it ironic that as a young man this street seemed so much larger than it had appeared to me now, for that matter the entire borough of Staten Island seemed so much smaller than I had remembered it.
The last time that I had stepped foot behind the front door of this home in Eltingville Staten Island was over 20 years ago just a few months prior to my exodus from New York City to Phoenix Arizona. This was the house that I lived in for twelve years along with my two step-brothers and three cousins that were residing with us because of the irresponsibility of their radical mother. A woman that was never prepared to raise children of her own and in turn dumped them off to the care of the demon woman that lived in this very house.
I rang the doorbell a second time to the continued barking of the dog beyond as I now assumed that no one was home. Being that this was an impromptu visit I did consider the fact that this may have been a wasted trip which would have been too bad since my travels to New York were every few years apart. The fact that I had the courage to be at this door at this very moment was something that I could not guarantee that I would do again. So I decided to stick it out and wait around until someone would show up at the door which would have been either my step brother John or the demon herself. I also considered the fact that Flo may have been home but not recognizing me since my physical appearance had changed dramatically after twenty plus years, she may have chosen to ignore my presence until I left. For that matter she may have recognized me and still decide to ignore my presence.
Nevertheless I had come this far and was determined to once again come face to face with the woman that had emotionally and mentally scarred me for many years. A woman whose irresponsible actions as a step parent to me and a biological parent to my step brothers John and Frankie refused to accept any accountability for the emotional wreckage that she left behind on her path in life. Whether she was aware of it or not the debris of damaged lives and broken family ties were the result of a cold and selfish heart that found comfort in the chaos that she invited into her life, and ultimately our lives. In this home and the house before were reminders of physical violence, mental anguish and profound humiliation instigated by my stepmother a woman that I can only describe as soulless. So today on this journey of self-reclamation I was on the verge of confronting the one person that I have feared, reviled, and begrudged to hopefully shatter the walls that besieged my bitter heart and bottled-up emotions.
I really wasn’t sure what I wanted to accomplish with this visit if anything, but here I was determined to face my past no matter what the outcome of my visit would be. So I decided to wait it out until someone arrived at the house as I decided to take a stroll along the south shore beachhead and gather up more memories of the past.
I could hear the muffled ding dong of the bell beyond the door and then the instant yap, yap, yap of a small dog responding to the notification of my presence. There was no sound of anybody approaching as of yet so I turned around to scan the block that I grew up on so many years ago. Retford Avenue was a strip of cookie cutter duplex homes on both the east and west sides of the street. The redundancy of each home was separated by the individuality expressed by the owners landscaping or contemporary renovations made to these old homes. I found it ironic that as a young man this street seemed so much larger than it had appeared to me now, for that matter the entire borough of Staten Island seemed so much smaller than I had remembered it.
The last time that I had stepped foot behind the front door of this home in Eltingville Staten Island was over 20 years ago just a few months prior to my exodus from New York City to Phoenix Arizona. This was the house that I lived in for twelve years along with my two step-brothers and three cousins that were residing with us because of the irresponsibility of their radical mother. A woman that was never prepared to raise children of her own and in turn dumped them off to the care of the demon woman that lived in this very house.
I rang the doorbell a second time to the continued barking of the dog beyond as I now assumed that no one was home. Being that this was an impromptu visit I did consider the fact that this may have been a wasted trip which would have been too bad since my travels to New York were every few years apart. The fact that I had the courage to be at this door at this very moment was something that I could not guarantee that I would do again. So I decided to stick it out and wait around until someone would show up at the door which would have been either my step brother John or the demon herself. I also considered the fact that Flo may have been home but not recognizing me since my physical appearance had changed dramatically after twenty plus years, she may have chosen to ignore my presence until I left. For that matter she may have recognized me and still decide to ignore my presence.
Nevertheless I had come this far and was determined to once again come face to face with the woman that had emotionally and mentally scarred me for many years. A woman whose irresponsible actions as a step parent to me and a biological parent to my step brothers John and Frankie refused to accept any accountability for the emotional wreckage that she left behind on her path in life. Whether she was aware of it or not the debris of damaged lives and broken family ties were the result of a cold and selfish heart that found comfort in the chaos that she invited into her life, and ultimately our lives. In this home and the house before were reminders of physical violence, mental anguish and profound humiliation instigated by my stepmother a woman that I can only describe as soulless. So today on this journey of self-reclamation I was on the verge of confronting the one person that I have feared, reviled, and begrudged to hopefully shatter the walls that besieged my bitter heart and bottled-up emotions.
I really wasn’t sure what I wanted to accomplish with this visit if anything, but here I was determined to face my past no matter what the outcome of my visit would be. So I decided to wait it out until someone arrived at the house as I decided to take a stroll along the south shore beachhead and gather up more memories of the past.
