text: Wash. Rinse. Repeat When I was a little girl, just a pint-sized chicken, my mom was my best friend. She made delicious food, threw a good party, and had a fiery personality. Our main form of communication was mostly through incoherent sounds. More like she would make a noise, and I would say something like, "want some tea?" Then I'd dash off to make one for her, place it by her bedside and cross my fingers that it was the perfect caramel colour. ... Sound of approval! Success. When I was 7, I became aware of the frequency and intensity of my parents' arguments. It was confusing because they would shout, something would get thrown, and my dad would leave. Then he'd come back, and everything would be fine. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Later that year, on a hot summer evening, we went to get my mom from her local hangout. My dad, with his three wild-looking muppets in tow, asked her to come home. She did not. Instead, she pointed at me, looked straight into my eyes and said, I will come for you tomorrow. I will take you away from these boys, and we will run away to a castle. I will be a queen, and you will be my princess. I could feel my eyes light up. Hope and excitement poured into my whole body. The next day, my mom wasn't home, so we had to go to work with my dad. I had developed a smugness overnight. "ugh, I guess I will go, but this is temporary. I don't belong with you, boys." My mom knew where my dad worked, so I wasn't worried. I knew she'd find me there. Anyways I was going to be a princess. Nothing else mattered. My brothers and I got to my dad's work, a foundry that wasn't really suitable for kids to play around in, and quickly assumed our usual "jobs." My oldest brother would sweep, my other brother would move big castings across the rollers, and I would sit in the office, on an oversized spinning chair, pretending to take messages on the phone. All of us impatiently waited for the coffee truck to stop by so we could get chocolate milk and a doughnut. Once noon arrived, I started getting ready to go. Surely my mom would be here soon. How could anyone wait to become a princess or a queen? As the minutes turned into hours, it became clear that she wasn't coming. I begged my dad to call her to ask her to come. He wouldn't do it. I was angry and upset. I cried so hard that I couldn't breathe and my face was a mixture of salty tears and runny snot. Every time my dad tried to console me, I would push him away and sob louder. Instead, I was stuck in this foundry with the boys. I was always stuck with the boys. Wash. Rinse. Repeat I was confused and felt a bruise forming on my heart. Why wouldn't she come get me? When I got home, she wasn't there. I didn't see her for a couple of days. When she finally came home, it was like nothing had happened. Sooner rather than later, they would shout, something would get thrown, and my dad would leave. Then he'd come back, and everything would be fine. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.