Local Social Network for the Arts Community in Central Valley
I think it came out pretty well...but my opinion isn't the one that matters...it is theirs. Who are 'they' you ask? It is anyone and everyone who looks at it and critiques it; from the view of the viewer is where the opinions lie. This piece will be available for purchase. It is going into a show in which any piece that sells 25% of the price will be donated to the Marjaree Mason Center. The Center is a wonderful charity. Devoted to helping those dealing with domestic violence in their lives. Domestic Violence happens on every block, in every neighborhood, in every city and town, in every state. It affects more families then most people realize. It is always kept quiet and not talked about until it has escalated to the point where serious injury or death has occurred. There is a reason for the silence. For the one being victimized, telling anyone what is going on could cost them their life. That keeps this problem under wraps, quiet, non-descript, and the points of help under-funded. Domestic violence comes in many forms…some have bruises and marks you can see…some don’t. None of these are easy to deal with or easy to get away from. It is very easy for some people to sit on their couch while they watch the Six O’clock News and say…’I don’t feel sorry for her; she should have just left and this wouldn’t have happened’! To this I say…how lucky you are to live a life that makes that fairytale a real possibility in your mind. You have no idea…no idea at all. Let me give you just a slight glimpse into the world you obviously know nothing about. It is 5:00 and she is packing up her stuff quickly to get out the door of her office so she can get home before he does. Everyday it is a challenge to get home in time. Traffic seems to be getting heavier and the stoplights longer. She leaves the parking lot and gets caught at a red light. Her fingers tap the steering wheel nervously. She finds herself biting at her fingernails of her left hand. The light finally turns green after what seems like five minutes. The on-ramp to the freeway is packed. She gauges…would it be quicker to stay on the surface streets?….should I get on the freeway?…surface streets?…freeway?…traffic starts moving a bit faster so she decides, freeway. Doesn’t take long before fate shows her that freeway was a bad choice. Taillights everywhere; traffic barely moving; there must be an accident up ahead; next off-ramp is one mile away. Panic sets in. Her hands start to shake a little bit. She starts talking to herself,…maybe he will get stuck in traffic, maybe this will clear up in just a sec, maybe he won’t get home first, please, please, please let me make it home first. She finally makes it to her neighborhood, turns down her street…she sees it…her heart skips a beat…she feels like she can’t breathe…his truck is in the driveway. She pulls into the driveway, takes a deep breath, it doesn’t help much, she tries to steady her nerves, tries to put on a calm face, gets out of her car, goes to the door, pauses for a moment before she opens it, opens the door, and there he is…waiting. ‘Where have you been bitch!?! Who have you been with!?! Who is it that seems to make you late getting home every single f#@&ing day!?!’ She tries to answer…all she is able to get out is…’I am only five minut’…and she is unable to finish her sentence. Before she can say another word, he has her, he has shoved her up against the wall. He has his hand around her neck and is squeezing hard enough to make it hard for her to breathe, but not hard enough to leave any marks. He has gotten really good at not leaving marks. She can feel his hot breath on her face as he says through clenched teeth…’I am so sick of you! I am so sick of you disrespecting me! I don’t know why I don’t just get rid of you! You just keep pushing me and pushing me! I ever catch you so much as talking to another guy…I swear to God!!’ She starts to tear up but tries so hard not to. He hates tears. He seems to feel they are just a show and they make him so angry. She can’t help the tears though. Out of the corner of her eye she can see her two little boys standing not ten feet way…staring…watching…learning from their Dad how a Dad and husband is supposed to act. She knows they are being affected by this. She worries about them. She doesn’t want them to witness this. She doesn’t know what to do. She manages to whisper…’the boys’. He lets go and starts to walk away. She is trying to catch her breath while trying not to let him hear her breathing heavy. He walks to just in front of the boys and stops. Looking right at them he says, ‘your mother is a slut! You had better hope you don’t grow up to be anything like her!’ He turns around to face her. She hasn’t moved. He says to her, ‘you better watch yourself, keep your mouth shut! If you don’t, I promise you, it won’t be you I hurt.’ He moves he eyes towards the boys without moving his head. She understands very well what he means but prays the boys are to young to understand. The next day, she gets up, goes to work, 5:00 comes, and the race to get home first starts again. So, with that said...let me ask you this...with your children's live's at stake, knowing the courts would give him visitation, knowing there are no marks to prove anything, and knowing what he is capable of...would you find it easy to just walk out and wait to be on the Six O'clock News? Trust me...the answer is NO!! Until next time...