No, Mama, I'm Not Crazy

Some of you may remember me writing about the neighbor we had when I was little and how I was having these horrible feelings surrounding something that happened. I even rode by there to see if there was an outbuilding like I remembered.
Yesterday, our cleaning lady came. I used to work with her and have known her for years. When she got ready to leave, she said she loved my taste in furnishings, and that she and I were very much alike. She said, "I am just a simple person. I grew up in Five Points."

Five Points is a neighborhood in the town where I grew up. I said, "Really? I was born on Oshaunesey Street." She said, "You're kidding. My grandmother lived on Oshaunesy. Did you know the Adams?"

I said, "No, I was really little when we lived there." She said, "They were sort of in the middle houses on that street, next to the Bakers and the Miners."
The Miners were the family that had the outbuilding. So I said, "We lived on the other side of the Miners, in the green house." She said, "Oh, you're kidding. My aunt bought that house back in the 60's." I told her that is when my mom sold it.

I said, "Did you know the Miners?" She said, "Oh yes. I wasn't allowed to go around them unless my grandmother was with me. Their son was a pervert."

At that, I lost my breath. I told her what I remembered, and that I had wondered if I was crazy, because I didn't remember pictures in my mind, but just overwhelming feelings, like not being able to breathe and being terrified.
She told me they did indeed have an outbuilding. She went there once with some neighbor kids, and that is where the son did his photography. I said, "He took a lot of pictures of me." She said he took pictures of all the neighborhood children, mostly out in the yard, but her aunt came home one day and found him taking pictures of her two little girls in the bathtub. Their dad dozed off on the couch while the girls were in the tub and this guy had let himself in. He said he heard the girls splashing and playing through the open bathroom window.

She said everyone knew he was a pervert. No one would let their children go around him. Her grandmother repeatedly warned her not to go over there. And she remembered that building, where now I am convinced something happened to me, and I'm not crazy.

My husband came home near the beginning of our conversation, and he asked her a lot of questions. I felt very anxious the whole time and didn't say a whole lot. I told him I feel like my memories have been validated, and now I know that I probably had a good reason to remember the feelings. After all, I was 2 or 3 when this happened. A child that young will only remember feelings, because I'm sure I would have not had words for what was happening or understand it.
I quit going to the therapist awhile back. I felt like it was getting too hard to talk about things she wanted me to talk about. I don't know if I will go back.