Petite Mal Epilepsy: the Perfect Child

I have a disability I’ve had my whole life long. My memory disappears whenever things go wrong, My first memory was wondering where and who on earth was I. And who were all the people that I did espy, When we moved to our first house, it struck me yet again. Thank goodness my brother came along on his bike just then. My mother came outside, and looked familiar so I followed her within. I actually thought that I was normal, when I was very small. They took my hand when I went out, so it mattered not at all. Ingrained habits kept me in the yard, with my friends, and at their knee. I was such a quiet thoughtful child, they were happy to let me be. Who am I and where am I, became my quiet refrain. But I didn’t worry because they always there to call my name. My parents never caught on, no not once, never at all… I actually acted like everyone else when I was very small. I looked normal to others so alone I had to carry on. Then I went to ballet class, I studied so very hard… for oh so long. The day of the recital I lost it all in front all where I wanted to belong. My mother thought it stage fright, and finally took me from the throng. What good was it doing, she thought, if I did not want to learn the dance? And then I realized to live my life I’d have to work hard for every chance. And if I had an argument with a friend, it was over oh so fast. For the stress made me forget and my life became recast. So if they didn’t come around for a while I didn’t really care. Because I would soon forget they had ever even been there. Eventually they would come back and my memory would come back. Then off we’d go to play again as I studied how to avoid another attack. When asked what I wanted to play, I’d smile at them you see… And they’d be happy as I said, “whatever you want is ok with me.” But do not think to pity me for my stubbornness is truly limitless. After 12 and ½ years in college… I became for 30 years, a true Chemist. I raised a son and held my own in a world that couldn’t understand me. But with all those bouts of confusion the world still became my cup of tea. Quiet, stubborn, hiding my pain, and with lots of daily notes… Lots of time spent studying ways around my problems, I would devote… My family had no pity, just the charge to get out there with mankind. And here I am successful at 58, now with poetry on my mind.