We had a metal box that sat on the front porch. The reason it was there was that a man would deliver milk to us, and it was insulated, and that is where he would leave it.

I used to play on the beach at Mobile bay. There would be all these crabs that would scurry around trying to avoid contact with humans, and whatever else crabs scurry around for.

The first few times I caught some, I dropped them as fast as I picked them up because they would pinch my fingers and hands. I don't know if they did this as an offensive action to get rid of me, or if they did it to hang on so they would not fall.

I finally was able to think about it before I would pick one up, and knowing what was going to happen, I did not shake them loose.

One time I caught one, and instead of letting it go like I usually did after playing with it for awhile, I decided to take it home with me.

I put it on my head, and it clamped onto my hair, and rode there with no effort to escape.

When I got home, for some reason, I opened up the box the milk was always left in, and put the crab on the edge of the box. I wanted to see if it could stay on that slim edge, and it did a pretty good job of it.

Then it grabbed me and I jerked my hand back out of reflex, and hit the box. The lid slammed down, and smashed the crab. It was the first time I ever remember killing anything. I was pretty sad about it, and felt like I had done something wrong.

I know I did not mean to hurt it, and it was an accident. Still with my newly acquired knowledge of death, which was not much knowledge at all, I just felt like I had done something very bad.

I remembered the hole in the ground that was at my mother's funeral, and I remember being told that she was going in there, and then I thought I probably should do the same thing for the crab.

I found a box, and put it in there wrapped up in tissue, and I went down by the river and I dug a little hole, and put the box in there and covered it up with the dirt.

I wondered if the crab would go to heaven, like my mom, and if she would see it. I started to wonder if she could see me, and knew what had happened that day.

I wanted to ask someone about all of it only I was afraid that if I did, I would be in a lot of trouble for what I had done. So I just wondered, and started to wonder about a lot of things.

I was learning to hide the things I did, and thought. I was learning to never ask questions, and always have the right answers when asked a question. Or at least pretend I had the right answers.

I was beginning to learn to lie without saying a word. I was learning to be alone, even when I was with someone, and how to keep things to myself, unless the things were of no real importance.

I was learning how to blend into the background, and only reflect what my father wanted to see. I was learning how to be anything but what I was.

Only I learned quickly how to do that in front of his eyes only, and when out of sight, to explore, and to question, and to use my imagination to be somewhere I was not when I was in his presence.

This would prove to be very valuable to me about thirteen years or so later. This ability to appear totally submissive, while mentally fostering an attitude of fierce independence.

The knowledge that though my body might be captive, my mind was free to plot defiance so subtle as to not be recognized, and escape from those who would seek to imprison my soul by inflicting pain on my body.

This ability to be numb to external pressures to the point of not even being present in spirit.

I am hesitant to even press the done button on this. I will do so as an act against the numbness I begin to feel as I write these words. I may have to reconsider some of the things I had intended to write in here in the next few days. I must think about the value of putting it into print.

Some things are maybe better off left dead, and buried.

I spent the night last night at work, laughing more than I have ever laughed at work. Recent events have once again made it necessary for me to work at least part of the weekend.

I even danced at work last night. Ha ha, the thought of dancing and getting paid for it was not in my mind when I left home last night.

I learned some traditional Mexican folk dancing. It was quite a lot of fun.

Though I feel quite drained physically, my body is free, and so is my mind.

May those who seek to keep us safe, be vigilant, and successful in their duties. I cannot help but worry about the citizens of NYC.

Ok, enough of that. I am smiling.

I am tired, and I am going to get some rest.