Children are supposed to be happy, but that wasn't the case for me. I was a solemn little girl with no time for the frivolities and social activities other children enjoyed. No, I was a quiet, angsty little thing. It wasn't because I had a bad life. I didn't. My grandparents, the ones I lived with, loved me. My aunt bought me whatever I wanted and I got along fairly well with my sister.
But still, I was a dark thing. Maybe I was lonely. I never really had friends. Only one, Brittany. She was a solemn little girl, too, but mostly she was just skittish and anxious. That's probably why we got along so well. I liked to make decisions for her in my unassuming way. It made me feel important to have control over her.
I always hated it when people told me to smile, especially at church. When my Grandma used to make me go, anyway. I don't anymore.
They would peek at me, as I hide behind Granny's best Sunday dress skirts, and I stared at thim. I think I scared them, because I never looked away. I always eyed them with wide, unassuming green eyes that never blinked.
Finally, they would attempt to talk to me. My Grandma would push me towards the person. They would ask questions. Sometimes I'd answer. Sometimes I wouldn't, and then, before they left, they would always give me a little grin that was supposed to be encouraging, but I always thought those grins looked creepy, uninhabited. Forced.
Then, they would say clearly, right before leaving, "Smile, child!" And when they noticed I wasn't going to, they left, a bit put out. I always thought they'd get over it.
My Grandma would be angry with me ('Oh, Tayah, what will they think of us raising you that way?') but I never paid any mind to her anger. She was a very hot-headed woman who liked to scold and nag just because.
I wasn't a happy child. Maybe my life wasn't so great. I distinctly remember my Memaw telling me at my mother's funeral, "You'll never see her again Tayah. Never ever!" And I remember her having to be pried off of my mother's casket.
In fact, I remember that day with stunning clarity. Some people think that you remember the good days, much more than you ever remember the bad days. I disagree. One of my best days was when I was in Florida with my family, but I can't even remember what month we went in. I can still remember what I wore to my mother's funeral. A black skirt with big, dark roses and a matching skirt. I still have it somewhere, I think.
Maybe all children aren't meant to be happy. I think I understand that now. Maybe some children are meant to grow up jaded, broken, and most importantly, without a smile on their plain little face.
'Will you smile for me, Tayah?'
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A semi-autobiographical piece.
Thanks for the feedback. 
