Liberation.
Today a childhood story is coming to the surfacefor me. Embarrassment and sillyness follow:
I sit in my elementary school principal's HOTSEAT
getting the 20 questions regarding a reported
kidnapping this day. "Sabrina" is my 8 year old best-friend,
blonde, cute and has been carried off
by some ruffian in a hotrod
from the church parking lot
directly behind the school.
Another witness regurgitates the same account
and we sit.
I don't know what happened after our false report,
but this memory came like today's winter storm;
fast, scary and uninvited.
How many years has it been since I thought of this?
Why would I ever have thought this could be harmless?
Did the principal report it to authorities?
Today it might be a different story.
Tell me your story and we'll both be liberated.
Thanks for the inspiration, Kati.
4 comments:
I can't get over those first two pictures! Love them! Who took those? You look so Yoga-ish! Great story...I'm going to have to think about this one. One story comes straight to my mind from when I was about 8 but I still haven't fessed up to it...don't know if I ever will. Maybe I'll just carry the guilt around for the rest of my life...hmmm....I'll think about it. :)
Yea you are so not getting anything like that out of me! My kids read my blog :) They shouldn't know such things about their mother!!!
Love the pictures :) What exactly does the pig one have to do with the story?
I thought you were quoting out of a book or memoir or something until I realized, oh, this is for real! Your pictures are so ... ahhhhh zen. Love it. So, my fess up story is this: (I am not doing it on my blog, so forget it)
You know, my parents are divorced, my dad, (whom you know well .... ha! so weird!) would have us over on the weekend occasionally, and instead of spending quality time with us, he would just drop me, my little bro and sis at the 49th street galleria. We didn't mind because he gave us money and we just played. But, it was never enough for the amount of time we spent there. My sister was a bit more frugal than I and still had some money. Somehow I managed to get her to "share" her money with me and we used it for some more fun until my dad came to pick us up. When we got in the car, I gave my dad the rest of the money and he said, praising me, "see, Cami knows how to be responsible with her money.... blah blah blah" telling my sibs and me that I was better for not having spent every cent. My sister and I exchanged knowing glances, hers more accusatory and mine more guilty. I never fessed up, nor did she. I have always wondered why she let me get the praise when clearly she was the better one.
Loverly pictures. Who is your photog?
Ummmm, there isn't any "story" I could tell you. I think you know everything about me....
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