Yoga Girl

years that followed were extremely dark and difficult, and even though my
mom did her best to take care of us, I had to grow up fast. I hardly have
any memories at all from when I was five until I was about ten years old.
I’d remember fragments here and there, but some were so vague I didn’t
know if they were from a dream I once had or if they were real. I
remember my grandmother rushing my brother and me out of the church
during the funeral, covering our ears so we couldn’t hear my mother’s
screams. I remember sad, sad faces everywhere we went. Lots of candy
and presents from relatives and people I didn’t know. People, everywhere,
all the time. We had to leave our apartment in the south of Sweden. Time
passed, and then all of a sudden we were alone. e three of us: me, my
little brother, my mom. e situation was too painful for us to discuss; we
stopped talking about my stepdad, and my mother was too fragile to
answer my questions.