GROWING UP FAST

GROWING UP FAST

The main thing my father taught me was how to survive when love turns. "GET OUT!" "GET OUT!" he shouted as he shoved me toward the doorway. The rage and anger in his voice frightened me. I looked at my mother. She moved suddenly, stepping toward him, placing herself between us. I could see she was frightened. Because of my dad's size and strength, she and I were helpless against him. She made an attempt to stop him. My dad turned toward her. She relented and cowered away from him into a corner. When he turned toward Mom, I attempted to go past him and back inside. My dad took a swing at me. His arm landed a blow across my chest. I was dazed from the blow, and pain exploded through my body. I was knocked backwards, stumbled out the doorway, and fell onto the ground. He stood filling the doorway and continued to yell. He seemed out of control, as if he was insane. His rage frightened me to the point a thought flashed through my mind: He might kill me... I ran away as fast as my legs could carry me.

As I ran into the woods, crashing through the brush with tree limbs hitting me in the face, I lost track of time. After a while, I began to fatigue; at the same time, I began to feel safer. Eventually, I slowed and my breathing steadied. I stopped and collapsed to the ground, trembling. Soon I lifted my head and listened. The rush of the river water reached my ears. It was steady and comforting. I realized I knew this place. It was an area that was familiar to me. My mother and I spent many days here. I would play in the woods near the bank of the river while my mother fished. She was a good fisherman.

I tried to calm myself on the bank of the river as my mind tried to sift through what happened. I was confused. Why was my dad so angry? Why did he kick me out? I knew my mom and dad were separated just before I was born, and I never got to know him. One time my mom and I were together, and my mom saw him. From the way she quickly turned us away, so fast it startled me, I knew she either didn't care for him or was frightened of him and concerned for our safety. We headed straight home. I didn't understand why my parents couldn't be together. I could not understand why the authorities didn't want to get involved—maybe they didn't want to get entangled in domestic relations. I was too young to understand any of it. I only knew it was up to my mom to protect the two of us.

As I lay there on the river bank and remembered the quieter days, I reminisced back to those times when my mom would fish and I would play around picking and stuffing myself with berries. Occasionally I would find a patch of morel mushrooms. I remembered the last few times she fished; she encouraged me to catch my own fish. I guess it was her way of saying, "If you want to eat, you have to learn how to fish."

As night settled in, I thought about going into town. Maybe someone there could help me. Maybe I could get some food. Then I remembered the time Mom and I went to town. Something happened; something had gone wrong. Mom came running and suddenly grabbed me, said we had to leave. She said it wasn't safe—the people in town were not like us; you could not trust them. It was a warm night, so I curled up and decided to sleep that night by the river. It was my first night alone and away from my mother and the comforts of home. Every noise startled me awake. I slept in short bursts. I woke up in the morning exhausted and hungry. I hadn't had anything to eat except the berries along the bank of the river.

I saw some people having a picnic near the river. I remembered my mother's warning. She said not to trust people. I knew I should stay away. But my hunger won. While they played in the water, laughing, I knew I shouldn't, but I crept forward and took their basket. With my heart pounding, I ran as fast as I could. I expected them to chase me. They didn't. The basket of food satisfied my hunger for the day.

I spent the next two days in the woods. I ate berries when I could find them, but it wasn't enough. I missed the comforts of home and constantly thought of my mother. I began to wonder if it was safe to go home. I wanted to check on my mom, but more than that, I didn't like being alone. Early that morning, I started home. Every step filled me with dread of what I would find when I got there. When I arrived home, she stood in the doorway. Relief surged through me—then it vanished. She wouldn't let me in. I could not believe how my mom had changed in just three days. She looked different. Tired. Her eyes were shadowed, her posture tense. I glanced around her and looked inside. My dad wasn't there. My mom yelled at me and told me I couldn't stay. From her actions, I assumed my dad would be back soon, and it wasn't safe for me to be there.

I was confused and didn't know what to do. I didn't understand. I only knew I was being sent away again. Confused and heartbroken, I turned and went back to the river so I could think and try to make sense of it all. I sat on the bank, staring up the hill toward the road. My thoughts confused and spun in circles. Then I saw a familiar truck slow down and stop. It was the officer I remembered from last winter. He brought food for me and Mom when we were hungry. I watched as he stopped his truck, got out, and looked down the hill at me. "He knows I need help. Maybe he has food." I started uphill toward the road. I stopped and froze in place. I watched in disbelief while the park ranger got back in his truck and drove away.

It was at that moment I realized I was on my own. From now on, that was just the way it’s going to be when you are a two-year-old grizzly bear cub…