[nycfem]

I remember when I was little, before I could spell, being in the backseat of the car with other little children, my mom driving, and her friend getting in the passenger seat. My mom asked her why she was covered in bruises and she spelled out, "D-O-U-G" (her husband). My mom nodded. I was so curious what word that spelled but knew that I'd get in trouble if I asked so I just kept spelling it in my mind over and over for hours in order to remember so I could ask someone later what this secret and powerful word was. Later at home, when my mom wasn't around, I asked my dad casually, "What word does D-O-U-G spell?" He seemed to think for a moment, caught off guard, and then said, "It isn't a word." He was probably being genuine in his answer (or not). I remember feeling so disappointed. Had I not remembered the letters in the right order? How could that be? The letters by that point were stuck on repeat in my brain. It wasn't until I could spell that I finally put it together. Doug was the reason why my mom's friend always had bruises. By then it wasn't satisfying to know, just sad.