Recently I was reminded of the time I thought I could save a baby bird. I was about eight years old and walking home from school one day I saw a little feathered blackbird lying on the ground. It was floundering around like it just didn't know how to fly yet. I didn't see a nest, so I decided to scoop it up and bring it home.
I remember passing my dad on the way into our house. He was working in the yard. I snuck the little bird past him and ran into my room. I talked to the little birdie for a bit and it looked at me like "please don't eat me." Realizing I'd need a box, I set the little bird in the middle of my bed. I thought it would be cozy there and I ran out to the garage to find a shoe box. Upon my return I was horrified to find that sweet little bird lying on the floor as still as death itself. My heart sank and I cried.
If I only would have put it somewhere lower. My desk drawer would have been better than what I did. It just broke my heart and made me feel so guilty. I finally told my dad and we had a little burial with shoe box in the yard.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Curbing hunger
One time when I was six years old I remember feeling really hungry and decided I would make my own spaghetti noodles, but I wasn't allowed to snack between meals. So I got some hard noodles and put them into a bowl of water and slid it under my bed. I figured eventually they would become the yummy noodles that I love to slurp up.
I checked on them all throughout the day and the next, but they never seemed to be quite right. Finally I just forgot about them. Months later I remembered that I had those noodles under the bed and was pretty scared to look. I looked, but there was no bowl of noodles or any such creature. I always wondered who found that and what did they think? I didn't bother asking.
I checked on them all throughout the day and the next, but they never seemed to be quite right. Finally I just forgot about them. Months later I remembered that I had those noodles under the bed and was pretty scared to look. I looked, but there was no bowl of noodles or any such creature. I always wondered who found that and what did they think? I didn't bother asking.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Crunch Crunch Boogie Man
I was a goofy kid born out of surprise, completely unplanned, to a girl who had yet to live. Still, my parents did the best they could to make it a normal family life, just the three of us. Mom put me to bed incredibly early, when the sun was yet not gone, because she wanted her free time. So I would spend many hours lying in bed wide awake in my imagination.
I imagined many different adventures as I would hear the squeals of the neighborhood children still at play outside. At some point, I'd fall asleep and it was ironic how the imagination would become my dream. I have many stories about these, but today I thought of my silliest blunder that caused just enough anxiety to make me fly in my dreams.
For so many years I remember hearing in my dream/wake state a sound like the crunch, crunch of footsteps outside my window. I always thought someone, like a giant, is coming for me, but he never came. Adding to the anxiety, was the shadowy movements of rice paper trees silhouetting through the sheer curtain. Still crunch, crunch, crunch. I thought, "Jeez, when's he gonna get here and get it over with?" I never yelled for help from my mom, because she was scarier than the potential boogie-man.
I heard these footsteps for as long as I could remember. When it seemed louder and I was dreaming I would take off in flight above my house, over my town, beyond the moon, floating with the stars. I didn't hear the footsteps out there. Sometimes when I woke up I would find myself buried deep under my pillow and down under the covers at the foot of the bed. I wondered if I'd even breathed all night? As I grew older this crunch, crunch made me think I had ants walking on my eardrum. But still I wondered when he was coming for me?
At some point I stopped noticing these footsteps. Seems like when I was 17 or 18. The years passed. Then one day when I was around 26 years old, I heard the crunch, crunch Boogie Man footsteps again. I thought about it and listened for quite some time until I finally realized, what I was hearing was the vibration of my heartbeat as my head lay on the pillow. Oh silly me!!! All those years of anxiety. However, without the silliness of my imagination I may not have flown so high in my dreams. I love to fly in my dreams!
I imagined many different adventures as I would hear the squeals of the neighborhood children still at play outside. At some point, I'd fall asleep and it was ironic how the imagination would become my dream. I have many stories about these, but today I thought of my silliest blunder that caused just enough anxiety to make me fly in my dreams.
For so many years I remember hearing in my dream/wake state a sound like the crunch, crunch of footsteps outside my window. I always thought someone, like a giant, is coming for me, but he never came. Adding to the anxiety, was the shadowy movements of rice paper trees silhouetting through the sheer curtain. Still crunch, crunch, crunch. I thought, "Jeez, when's he gonna get here and get it over with?" I never yelled for help from my mom, because she was scarier than the potential boogie-man.
I heard these footsteps for as long as I could remember. When it seemed louder and I was dreaming I would take off in flight above my house, over my town, beyond the moon, floating with the stars. I didn't hear the footsteps out there. Sometimes when I woke up I would find myself buried deep under my pillow and down under the covers at the foot of the bed. I wondered if I'd even breathed all night? As I grew older this crunch, crunch made me think I had ants walking on my eardrum. But still I wondered when he was coming for me?
At some point I stopped noticing these footsteps. Seems like when I was 17 or 18. The years passed. Then one day when I was around 26 years old, I heard the crunch, crunch Boogie Man footsteps again. I thought about it and listened for quite some time until I finally realized, what I was hearing was the vibration of my heartbeat as my head lay on the pillow. Oh silly me!!! All those years of anxiety. However, without the silliness of my imagination I may not have flown so high in my dreams. I love to fly in my dreams!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Sleeping kitties ,
I'll begin with one of five year old me, that makes me cringe to think of it... what was I thinking?
My kittens were sleeping in the playhouse, which was more like dad's old tool shed, but it worked for me. I could see the two black feline brothers snuggled up together in a furry ball. The door to the shed was open. It was irresistible! I just had to get close enough to snuggle with them and listen to their purring. However based on past experience these kitties ran every time I came near them. They had been rescued from a feral momma cat. I wanted so much for them to stay in that same position and let me join them on the rug.
Unfortunately my playhouse was surrounded by this very noisy gravel. Dad called it pea gravel because it was shaped like peas. I started to step and could tell it wasn't going to be good, so then I looked about at all the things I could use as stepping stones to get to the shed door. A brick, an old bucket, a towel and a sideways empty aquarium would probably get me right to the door.
So I began my journey and reached the the aquarium which meant I only had to slip on quietly into the shed. Unfortunately even though I was maybe only 40 lbs, it was just too much weight by the time I pulled my other foot over, my feet went right through the glass and I screamed. The kitties went running, my feet sat in a pool of blood and glass. I didn't move, just stood there and cried. I think I was more upset about the kitties running and the trouble I would be in for breaking the aquarium, than I was about my feet. It didn't hurt at that point.
My mom who very rarely would have anything to do with me, actually came running out from hearing my scream. She scooped me up, carried me into the house, sat me on the counter and began pulling the glass out of my feet. I enjoyed the time she gave me, because it was one of the few times I really felt love and concern from her. She wrapped my feet, took me to the emergency room. I was fixed up with stitches and bandages and given a prescription of keeping feet raised and lots of television time which I usually was not allowed to have. So things worked out pretty well... I just never got my nap with the kitties.
My kittens were sleeping in the playhouse, which was more like dad's old tool shed, but it worked for me. I could see the two black feline brothers snuggled up together in a furry ball. The door to the shed was open. It was irresistible! I just had to get close enough to snuggle with them and listen to their purring. However based on past experience these kitties ran every time I came near them. They had been rescued from a feral momma cat. I wanted so much for them to stay in that same position and let me join them on the rug.
Unfortunately my playhouse was surrounded by this very noisy gravel. Dad called it pea gravel because it was shaped like peas. I started to step and could tell it wasn't going to be good, so then I looked about at all the things I could use as stepping stones to get to the shed door. A brick, an old bucket, a towel and a sideways empty aquarium would probably get me right to the door.
So I began my journey and reached the the aquarium which meant I only had to slip on quietly into the shed. Unfortunately even though I was maybe only 40 lbs, it was just too much weight by the time I pulled my other foot over, my feet went right through the glass and I screamed. The kitties went running, my feet sat in a pool of blood and glass. I didn't move, just stood there and cried. I think I was more upset about the kitties running and the trouble I would be in for breaking the aquarium, than I was about my feet. It didn't hurt at that point.
My mom who very rarely would have anything to do with me, actually came running out from hearing my scream. She scooped me up, carried me into the house, sat me on the counter and began pulling the glass out of my feet. I enjoyed the time she gave me, because it was one of the few times I really felt love and concern from her. She wrapped my feet, took me to the emergency room. I was fixed up with stitches and bandages and given a prescription of keeping feet raised and lots of television time which I usually was not allowed to have. So things worked out pretty well... I just never got my nap with the kitties.
My confession
This is where I hope to confess all my blunders and stupidity. Sometimes things turned out ok, better, or none for the worse, when it felt, at the time, the whole world was crashing in on me.