I never in a million years thought that I would transfer out of the city. Boston has been my home for so long and it has been part of my family’s past. My family’s blood line came over on a boat through Ellis Island and worked their bodies to the bone in coal mines and factories and some even on railway lines. It wasn’t until my great, great, great-grandfather found a new line of business in the Boston Police Department that it all came into focus. Every man in the family is either part of the force in some way. We even have a few that became firefighters, but is the blue of our blood that runs true. My dad didn’t want me to join, in fact he fought tooth and nail to try to just have me marry an officer. I have been on my own technically since I was sixteen and it has been me and only me that I look out for. I love my family, don’t get me wrong, but there comes a time when I have to let them go and live for myself.
I lived in a house with four other brothers my dad and mom. I was never alone but it was always my brothers that got my parents attention. They were older than me and my dad favored them because he would have four strapping young men to contribute and my mom, well, she didn’t live long enough to see me join and while she was a live she made sure that the boys got enough to eat, all the proper clothes and studied hard to make grade. I was left in the shadows to watch and observe. I feel that is what has made me a good judge of character today and a good detective. I first look at the suspect before I interview them and see what their tells are and their flaws. Most the time it just the street scum and drug dealers. There are plenty of heavy crimes as well. I have seen my share of murders and sex related cases then I care to admit.
That is where Miami comes into play. I did not want to leave at first. It took two years and seven months to final come to and put in for my transfer. I know that Miami has its fair share of crime as well, but it has a beach and is warm. How can anyone be unhappy with those aspects. My chief was not overall thrilled for me leaving, he drug his feet in approving my papers, but in the end he saw that I was not happy and was not going to be happy. I want an excuse to get away from my family primarily, they just cause me so much unneeded stress that I cannot handle their outbursts.
I have spent years looking at pamphlets and travel brochures, even some apartment gazing. I have always fantasized about some place tropical like Hawaii or some place more exotic. I got my day-dreaming from my mother, as my dad claims. She always wanted to travel the world and see everything. She mainly wanted to go to Italy, or Australia. She was an adventure at heart. She would have pictures and memorabilia that she would buy to bring some sort of culture into the home. I just remember that she used to practice Italian every night before bed, I never knew what she was doing, until now.
Deep down I feel that she wanted to get away from this family as much as I do now. She worked hard than anyone I know, even today. She was the typical house wife and mother of an Irish family. Mom would cook and clean and do our laundry and tuck all of us in bed at night and then rise and do it all over again in the morning. My dad thought that her dreams were just a way of coping with the day-to-day stress of life. He would say, “I dream, but my dreams are of how I’m going to survive the next day.”
I never understood my father’s ability to just live everyday like it was his last. I want so much more for myself. I think that is what my mother wanted of me too, but never had the time or the ability to say. I feel a sense of loss every time I think of her. Part of it is because I did lose my mother young but it is as though I lost a part of me. My dad did the best he could raising us, especially me. But I feel he thought that I was just a dust ball to be pushed under the rug. I never strived to be in the spot-light or an attention getter as most girls in my situation. I just kept to my studies and books, and photographs. I kept all of my mother’s pictures of her family at home and her “day-dreams.” I even was able to get out of my dad for my birthday a new camera. I would carry that thing all over with me, to school, church, the playground. Any thing that caught my eye I photographed. It was like opening up a whole new world for me. I was able to find myself.
All of my friends thought I was crazy for joining the PD. I felt as though it was the only way I would fit in with my father and brothers. And in a way it was, but it wasn’t who I was or am. On the side I go to art galleries and museums. I enjoy the past more so than the present. It is this hiding that I want to also escape. No one knows what or who I am here. They just see me as the younger sister, or the little girl. I have no identity other than my name.
To be continued…