Am I the only one to remember?

In the cold concrete basement,

Before we put down sea floor tile,

Where we had no bounce house,

Because we broke the third one last holiday,

The formidable box tower loomed in the corner,

Things my parents would swear we need,

The screen door was our light source,

Wall and door not yet built to keep it out,

The quietest place in the house,

Where we normally were designated to play,

You, Brittany, Evan, Nolan and I,

You two were over for Easter weekend,

We had already found our eggs,

Retrieved our hidden cheap candies and dollar bills,

It was after our annual holiday dinner,

We were playing who knows what downstairs,

When Brittany stops us to get our attention,

She calls you over to her,

You were Nolan’s age of 10 or 11,

My brothers and I gathered over, ever so curious,

She told you to touch her like she showed you,

Like you always did for her when she asked,

You looked so proud of yourself,

Helping out your beloved big sister,

She taught you how to pleasure her,

Touching all the parts that made her feel good,

I was frozen in place before she jarred me,

Looked over at me with a smile,

And tells my brothers to copy him,

To do to me, what she had taught you,

Too young, we were too young,

I sobbed pathetically as I ran away,

My mind was a mess of confusion,

I don’t understand,

I’ve watched the required sex ed video,

Read puberty and sex books with my mother,

I had some idea what it was,

But I didn’t know the feeling,

The complexities behind it,

It felt so wrong,

So sickeningly wrong my stomach turned,

My vision was swirling from my tears,

Anxiety was choking my throat as I fought my way up,

I need to get up the stairs,

I was reaching for the kitchen light,

Enveloped by blinding white