See Cherry. See Cherry run. See Cherry thrive. See Cherry Win.

I do not beleive in coincidence. I do not believe in happenstance. I do, however believe in the providence of God. I do believe in Karma. So I guess this puts me in a predicament.

I have three half-brothers who are all younger than I am, we share the same mother and unfortuneately we all were molested by one of our mother's many husbands when we were young. The molestation started when I was nine and my brothers were seven, five, and three, respectively. My mother, I should say has been married, at last count nine times, with several "live-ins" in between. The man that molested, beat and emotionaly/verbaly abused us was number three. In the summer of seventy-eight, in the dark of night, we were packed into our volkswagon bus along with whatever possesions we could carry and were taken from our family and friends in Phoenix, Arizona to live in Missouri. For about a year nobody knew where we were.

Eventualy, my brothers were taken back to Phoenix to live with their father and I was left to be raised as an only child. My abuse lasted untill I was about fourteen and it was, to say the least, horrific. This man eventually left my mother and moved to another state with another woman and was never seen or heard from again.

From time to time in the last twenty years or so I have done searches to see if I could find him, none of my searches yeilded anything of note. Years ago I was filled with rage and violence toward him. Now, as I have had much counseling and began my addiction recovery I have felt less raw anger, like a soda-pop sitting with the lid off, my rage dissipated, somewhat.

The last several weeks have been horrid around our home. One of my closest and dearest friends was diagnosed with cancer. My husband's mother was taken to the hospital with a suspected stroke. My kids are all home for the summer, blah, blah, blah... So, with already raw nerves and an exhausted spirit, I sat down to check my email Friday night. My sister-in-law just happened to send me a forward, which as many of my friends know, I hardly ever look at and simply delete. This one I opened. It happened to be a website offering specific information on people in the United States. It was totaly out of the blue. I hadn't even thought about him in months, but, out of some knee-yerk reaction my fingers typed in his name almost before I was conscious of doing so.

I've found him.

After all these years, I know exactly where he lives and even his telephone number.

So, what to do. I sat for a moment staring blankly at my monitor, my mind in reality was blank. Some great void in the spiritual plane of the universe took all of my brain function at that moment and I simply stared. My dear sweet husband just happened to be standing, looking over my shoulder and realising what I was looking at he put his hands on both of my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. I was vaguely aware of his presence, just as a swimmer going out to sea is vaguely aware of the shoreline. Not seeing it, but knowing instinctivly the direction in which it lies. The first thing I remember is his calming voice, "Well" he says "what are you going to do?"
At this moment, a million options are running through my brain and all I can formulate in my head is, "I don't know." I imediatley caught one of my brothers on-line and IMed him the whole story. WE looked up the Missouri State Statute of Limitations. We are too late to file any civil claims. I have a number to call the Missouri A.G. this morning to get more of an understanding of the legal classification of molestation compared to forcible sodomy and forcible rape. Maybe we can get the State to take criminal action. Unfortuneately, my brother had made plans to go away for the weekend and was unable to talk. We are going to talk hopefully this week.
I've been trying to make sense of this in my head, to put all the pieces together, to unravel my emotions and figure out what it is exactly that I feel.

I feel Confrontational.
I do not feel unbriddled rage and anger.
I feel determined, precise.

I want to see him. I want to look into his eyes. I want to see the frailty of his age robbing him of the power of his youth, the power that he yeilded like a caveman's club to beat down anyone in his way. I want to see his legs weak and his hair falling out, I want to see him wrinkled and gnarled.
Truthfully, honestly, I want him to see ME. I want him to see me strong and beautiful. To see me surviving, no, thriving. To see me happy and well and sober. To see me a loving wife, a good mother, a breaker of the chains that bind us to familial cycles of abuse.

I want him to see ME.

I cannot say at this point what the next step will be. I do not know how this will proceed or how my feelings will evolve with time.

I do not believe in coincidence. I do not believe in happenstance. I do believe in the providence of God. I do believe in Karma.

I want him to see ME.