I love it that Magda cuts things up and then pieces it all back together. It's kind of like an art quilt. And the way she's stamped the word 'creative' all over gives it such an urban grunge feel.
She's pretty much brilliant in my opinion.
My sister went through an awful lot of heartache when she was a little girl. I can't honestly tell you what all it was, but the results showed throughout her life in all too many painful ways.
One of my first memories of Kim specifically is of us sitting outside the chicken coop on a log while she told me what sex was. I was four and she was ten. She knew in great detail all about it. I recall that my brother came over and told her to stop but she wouldn't. I now know that she was sharing this because she had been violated, but at the time, I didn't understand such things.
Another of my memories is of her kicking me down the road to the bus stop. She was a very angry young woman and perhaps the only way she could let that out was by mistreating a little sister who was unable to defend herself. I was a punching bag, able to be pinched and spit on and to have other undesirable things thrown on me. She'd scare me, call me names, get me into trouble.
Some people might have said we were like any other siblings but I believe her behavior was abusive. I know for me, I felt terribly helpless and at her mercy. I was six years younger and she was a violent young lady.
As it turned out, she was also sexually abusive and for at least 4 years, I was her subject. From the ages of 3 through 7, I was required to do unspeakable things for her. There is more to that story, but I will share later. For most of my life, all I recalled was that my sister had made me do terrible things and that I'd been threatened with harm if I didn't comply.
I have often thought it strange that I was never angry at my sister for her actions. All my life I remember loving and admiring her and wanted to be like her. I always thought she was beautiful and smart and everything I wasn't. She was athletic. She was tough, getting in fights with boys and winning. She didn't take anything from anybody. She was hard.
I was soft, and that didn't seem particularly advantageous.
It wasn't until she was much older that she was safe for me. At age 15, she ran away from home and never returned. She was found, but moved in with our Pastor and his wife. They provided her with safety and counseling and it seemed she would be better.
I was sad to see her go. I still regret that we didn't get to spend more time together during that time of our lives.
