Power and Control

1958. I wrote those numbers across the top of the page. I swallowed deeply to try hold back the thought of that year. I stopped. I couldn't bring myself to write about it, but I can't leave my memoirs unfinished. These two conflicting thoughts pounded in my head while I rested my head on my palm. My head felt like it was getting heavier and heavier until it finally slipped through my fingers and I had to stop it from hitting the table. I looked up, picked up my pen and began to write.

The 21st of February 1958 was the first sunny day all month. Perfect weather to take my daughter Maya for a walk. She was only 11 months old, although she was developing very quickly. She could almost walk and was very curious with her surroundings, like most young children. The hardest bit is I don't even know how it happened. I put Maya down and turned around and I couldn't see her. I froze. I began to breathe deeply from my mouth while me eyebrows were sloped down in concern. I ran around frantically. I have never been into running but it was so natural when your mind is set. I heard splashes and saw Maya in a river. I had never seen that river full before, it was almost disorientating. I will never forget her struggling in the water, her neck was flopping around, head bopping up and down, the sound of her gasping for air.

I couldn't do anything. I tried to jump in but a man near me stopped me, I will never forget him. I gave him a black eye. I couldn't just stand there and watch my baby drown but he still held onto me. I screamed, I kicked, I struggled just as my baby struggled against the current I fought to save her life, to save my life, my beloved child who was my life.

She didn't come up for about 10 minutes. It sunk in, Maya was gone. I pushed the empty pram home as tears roll down my face. The man followed me home trying to comfort me. He told me there was nothing I could have done and it wasn't my fault.

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