I Was Nine

I was nine.
I think.
It was the year before I turned 10; so I guess I was nine.
I might have been younger.
It went on so long, I’m not sure of my age, and it only stopped
Because my folks moved away.
So why don’t kids tell their folks?
There’s the guilt.
And they think telling will get them in trouble…
As if they could get in more trouble.

I was not one of the threatened ones.
I was just one of the choked ones.

My folks left me alone with them…a lot
His wife left me alone with him…a lot
The trip to the Cape with other girls
​Was a nightmare.

I never did tell my folks.
Even after we moved away.
Even after I grew up.
Even after he died.
Even now. And now they, too, are gone.

As an adult, and a therapist, I know it wasn’t their fault.
Am I sure, yet, that it wasn’t mine?