Apologies if this posts twice- it isn't showing up a few hours after I first submitted.
It was the afternoon in Nipomo, and we had followed our cousins through a hole in the fence to reach their latest tree house. The number of trees I climbed and things we blew up when we visited them I won't try to count. My cousin John was months older than me, but his sister Anna was four years our senior and the one "in charge" if we got too far from the house. This was odd for me, as I was the oldest, the bossy one, in my family. But I also thought she was really cool, so most of the time it was fine. This time, though, shit hit the fan. I use that term because that was how startling and upsetting the afternoon ended up being for me. It was as unusual as profanity in my very conservative family. Another afternoon of capering ahead, a new fort to inspect, the breeze of rural independence on our faces. We crossed through the fence and approached the enormous oak, it's side showing a row of wood pieces nailed to it, a makeshift ladder. We climbed up toward the landing, large planks laid across the lowest branches, with other neighborhood kids waiting their turn to go up and join the group. And then…my sister was stuck. Halfway up she became paralyzed with fear, unable to go up or come back down. Anna began shouting instructions to her in a commanding voice. But she was my sister. I could read her white knuckles, her tears and red cheeks. No amount of bossy older sister-ness was going to help her get down. She couldn't move and was so upset she might end up falling. So I yelled at my cousin that we needed to get my aunt or my mom to help, she said NO. She forbade me to leave but I couldn't stay, I had to break through my commitment to the hierarchy and turn and run. My mind splintering with the fear for my sister, the terror of disobedience, and the wrenching feeling that my friendship with Anna would be over forever. I sprinted through the dry hot field, crossed the neighborhood streets alone, sprinted up their long steep driveway to burst into the dark, cool kitchen where my mother and her sister sat talking. They were upset I had come back alone but quickly moved to go help my sister. I stayed back, exhausted, and filled with dread.
— slowjamr
It was the afternoon in Nipomo, and we had followed our cousins through a hole in the fence to reach their latest tree house. The number of trees I climbed and things we blew up when we visited them I won't try to count. My cousin John was months older than me, but his sister Anna was four years our senior and the one "in charge" if we got too far from the house. This was odd for me, as I was the oldest, the bossy one, in my family. But I also thought she was really cool, so most of the time it was fine. This time, though, shit hit the fan. I use that term because that was how startling and upsetting the afternoon ended up being for me. It was as unusual as profanity in my very conservative family. Another afternoon of capering ahead, a new fort to inspect, the breeze of rural independence on our faces. We crossed through the fence and approached the enormous oak, it's side showing a row of wood pieces nailed to it, a makeshift ladder. We climbed up toward the landing, large planks laid across the lowest branches, with other neighborhood kids waiting their turn to go up and join the group. And then…my sister was stuck. Halfway up she became paralyzed with fear, unable to go up or come back down. Anna began shouting instructions to her in a commanding voice. But she was my sister. I could read her white knuckles, her tears and red cheeks. No amount of bossy older sister-ness was going to help her get down. She couldn't move and was so upset she might end up falling. So I yelled at my cousin that we needed to get my aunt or my mom to help, she said NO. She forbade me to leave but I couldn't stay, I had to break through my commitment to the hierarchy and turn and run. My mind splintering with the fear for my sister, the terror of disobedience, and the wrenching feeling that my friendship with Anna would be over forever. I sprinted through the dry hot field, crossed the neighborhood streets alone, sprinted up their long steep driveway to burst into the dark, cool kitchen where my mother and her sister sat talking. They were upset I had come back alone but quickly moved to go help my sister. I stayed back, exhausted, and filled with dread.
— slowjamr
That was a serious breach in the kids' code but absolutely the right thing to do. Good story of childhood, rule-following, and risk-taking.
ReplyDeleteOh, I hope you did regain your friendship with Anna! Such a good description of conflicting feelings! (Macoff)
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