Another child hood memory #1

I don’t really remember the time of year, but I do remember the time of the day.
It was supper time in Trammel. That’s the name of the town where we lived. Living, that’s what they called it, but looking back it was more like existing. Oh we had a few things. I had some toys. I remember a shiny blue ford car in front of the house and this fenced in yard. It was one of the nicer homes in the town because my mom’s grandfather owned the town at one time. You see it was a mining camp, in Virginia. That’s why I said it was supper time in Trammel, because the men all came home around the same time and in that era the women all had supper ready for their men. Well,at least most of them were men in the real scene of the word.
I remember waiting at the door for my dad to come home as all sons do,I was probably two years old. I looked out the door; I don't remember if it was the screen or a window (remember the time of year is kind of fuzzy,but the rest is crystal clear).It was then that I saw him getting out of that blue ford all covered in coal dust which was always a little scary for me because he didn’t look familiar covered in that black soot. He waved to his friends who were also neighbors showing his biggest smile which seamed extra white because of the blackness of his face. But once he turned to come in the house his face changed. All you could see was black and the white around his green squinting eyes. he flung a chew of tobacco out on the lawn as he came in the house and managed a slight grin as he patted and rubbed my fresh burr hair cut with his thick strong soot covered hands. This would be the last earnest smile from him I would ever remember seeing.
My mom was by all standards a beautiful and attentive woman as well as a slight woman of about 5' 2"or 3".Now I know all little boys think there moms are beautiful but she really was. In her youth especially, she looked like she could have been a movie star. It was probably that, coupled with the fact that every eligible bachelor in town had tried to court her for ether her looks or the money she might wind up with because of her grand father. That knowledge could have predisposed my dad to have a raised ire or maybe he was just dissatisfied with his life,maybe he was just out right bad inside.
Once in the house his demeanor changed even more, as if no one would know through the paper thin walls of the mining house. He began yelling, I don’t remember what he yelled but he seemed upset. What could be wrong,why was he so angry. Soon I would know. Cowboy beans, thats right beans, onions and hamburger. That’s what turned my father into a screaming maniac as he walked into the bathroom to clean up and proclaimed that he wasn’t going to eat any G@$#! D&*#! Cowboy beans! Just then my mother made the statement that it was all we had and that she hadn't been to the store. He turned as though a knife had been thrust into his back. He began to walk with determination toward my mother still standing at stove more than likely out of defense or denial of hope of what she knew was about to happen would not happen.
Now he’s coming swinging his arms side to side like a speed skater. He lunged at her and grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around in front of the stove. He swung to hit her, and for probably the first and last time in there marriage she moved so as not to be hit. This infuriated my father, so much so he grabbed the hot iron skillet and flung it to the floor. Now roaring in agony from his burned hand he flung my mother in to the sitting room on to the couch. Running again toward her all the time berating her and calling her names. Names I did not understand at the time. Then grabbing her and picking her up and dragging her to the bathroom door making her look into the mirror after each time he hit her accusing her of causing him to do this while the burses seemed to appear instantly. After she would say it was the coal dust but the coal didn’t wash off her face for two weeks or more. She some how got away briefly only for him to catch her again by her beautiful naturally auburn hair. Now pulling her back and then forth over and over again till they once again reached the couch. At that point he pulled her to then fro then with a snapping whip action slung her to the couch while still holding on to her hair. She made it to the couch but a good deal of her auburn hair did not along with a four inch piece of the scalp from the back of my mothers head. Now as she lay there bleeding all over the couch, he stood there holding what was once her glory.But now and forever would be her grief in his hurtful bloody hands, proclaiming that maybe now she would learn and that he was going some where else to eat.” She did learn but not at that point ". So he left coal dirty and bloody carrying his bloody trophy while my mother lye on the couch holding a pillow to her head crying and screaming while the blood soaked the pillow through.
So that’s one of my first memories. Not the first but one of them. I noticed every thing.. I saw it all. But no body noticed the little boy watching. Nobody noticed the little boy with blistered burned fingers picking up G@$#! D&*#! Cowboy beans in the middle of the floor telling over and over who ever would hear that he was fixing it? One was in too much pain to hear, and the other just didn’t care.