Play & Book Excerpts
I Got it From Here
(She Writes Press)
© Francesca Miracola
After the brunch, we drove to my parents to pick up my belongings. I stood on the threshold of my childhood room and gazed at the spring break pictures and sorority letters on the wall. A picture of me and my brothers sat on my dresser. We were young and smiling, our arms around each other, drinks in our hands. My trophies and awards filled the room, along with other mementos of what had once seemed like an accomplished life.
I remembered the times I hid in my room reading for hours as a child, and later, as a teen, talking endlessly on my phone. My stuffed Snoopy doll from Chuck was on the bed. I yearned to take it with me. I missed the girl who once lived in this room, the one who got so lost along the way. I brushed a tear from my cheek as I wondered if I’d ever see her again. Sensing my pain was bubbling too strong, I took a deep breath and hurriedly gathered my bags, convincing myself these were normal emotions to have as I said goodbye to my childhood.
Suitcases in hand, I met my parents at the bottom of the stairs. My father faded from my focus. My mom’s fearful face and sad eyes were all I could see. She didn’t know what to say; she never did. But I could tell she realized the way she and my father lived had set me up for an even worse fate.
There had been times when Jason and I stopped dating. My mom had been hopeful during the breaks. She grew angry when we got back together. “What’s wrong with you, Francesca? Can you be this stupid to take this jerk back again?” she’d scolded.
Her disgust triggered me. “You should talk,” I snapped back. “Where do you think I learned this crap from?” I was alluding to her taking my dad back after they separated briefly when I was in high school.
In the past, she’d lashed out. Today, she grieved. Her sorrow unleashed my suffering. Her blue eyes appeared a dull gray, the outer corners turned down. Her frown hung down to her chin. She regretted being unable to stop the cycle. Her shoulders slumped. Watching your child suffer is worse than suffering yourself. I was scared. I wanted my mother to take care of me and make my marriage go away. We stared at each other, aware that we had both made terrible mistakes. I choked back a blubbering cry of despair.
Jason walked into the hallway from the living room, and I felt him looking at me with warning eyes and a tight jaw. He sensed the high emotions and was eager to get out of there and have me all to himself. He swung his arms and subtly punched a fist into his palm. His lack of patience and hate for my parents was obvious. He sensed my emotional pull toward my family, even though they were dysfunctional. I had too much guilt to walk away and a heart that yearned to heal. He knew this would make it difficult for him to fully control and dominate me. He picked up my suitcases. “Let’s go,” he said. “It’s time to say goodbye.”
I remembered the times I hid in my room reading for hours as a child, and later, as a teen, talking endlessly on my phone. My stuffed Snoopy doll from Chuck was on the bed. I yearned to take it with me. I missed the girl who once lived in this room, the one who got so lost along the way. I brushed a tear from my cheek as I wondered if I’d ever see her again. Sensing my pain was bubbling too strong, I took a deep breath and hurriedly gathered my bags, convincing myself these were normal emotions to have as I said goodbye to my childhood.
Suitcases in hand, I met my parents at the bottom of the stairs. My father faded from my focus. My mom’s fearful face and sad eyes were all I could see. She didn’t know what to say; she never did. But I could tell she realized the way she and my father lived had set me up for an even worse fate.
There had been times when Jason and I stopped dating. My mom had been hopeful during the breaks. She grew angry when we got back together. “What’s wrong with you, Francesca? Can you be this stupid to take this jerk back again?” she’d scolded.
Her disgust triggered me. “You should talk,” I snapped back. “Where do you think I learned this crap from?” I was alluding to her taking my dad back after they separated briefly when I was in high school.
In the past, she’d lashed out. Today, she grieved. Her sorrow unleashed my suffering. Her blue eyes appeared a dull gray, the outer corners turned down. Her frown hung down to her chin. She regretted being unable to stop the cycle. Her shoulders slumped. Watching your child suffer is worse than suffering yourself. I was scared. I wanted my mother to take care of me and make my marriage go away. We stared at each other, aware that we had both made terrible mistakes. I choked back a blubbering cry of despair.
Jason walked into the hallway from the living room, and I felt him looking at me with warning eyes and a tight jaw. He sensed the high emotions and was eager to get out of there and have me all to himself. He swung his arms and subtly punched a fist into his palm. His lack of patience and hate for my parents was obvious. He sensed my emotional pull toward my family, even though they were dysfunctional. I had too much guilt to walk away and a heart that yearned to heal. He knew this would make it difficult for him to fully control and dominate me. He picked up my suitcases. “Let’s go,” he said. “It’s time to say goodbye.”
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Francesca Miracola is an Italian American from Queens, New York, currently living on Long Island, but in her mind she’s a free-spirited wanderer. She wants to travel the world, but she’s afraid to fly, although a glass of wine gets her through most flights. Francesca’s mostly an introvert who greatly prefers deep, meaningful conversations to surface small talk. She keeps her circle small, and she’s still debating if that’s a good or bad thing.
Francesca is a breast cancer survivor, but she rarely defines herself as one – probably because she feels like she’s been surviving something most of her life. She’s funny; at least, she makes herself laugh. Francesca graduated cum laude from New York University and worked in financial services for 25 years, even though she wanted to be a therapist. That’s probably because she needed a therapist. Francesca found her true path as a student and teacher of A Course in Miracles, author, life coach, and founder of Protagonist Within LLC. Francesca is a wife, a best friend, and above all, a mother. |
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