The Shirt

I'm five. In a few short months I will be leaving the baby sitters house to go to kindergarten. I live in a different school district than her so I can not stay at her house any longer. As a going away present she is making me a shirt. Every kid gets one when they leave, a way to remember her.

We go to the fabric store. A trip with my mom to pick out the fabric for my "special shirt." I pick one, my mom asks me if I am sure. I tell her that I am. It is BRIGHT. Not just a little bright, but a lot of bright. Primary colors, horizontal stripes.

She makes the shirt. I don't know how many times I have worn it but I know that I still own it. After I got married I cleaned out my room at home and there it was. Obviously I will never fit into it again but I can't bare to part with it. Somewhere in a tote up in our attic sits my shirt.

This year my baby sitter passed away. She will never make another shirt for another little kid. I'm so glad I still have mine.

The mole..

I'm at the baby sitters. My mom comes, it is the middle of the morning. She doesn't ever come this early. She tells me that we are going to the doctor. We get there and he looks at something on my back. Something that my mom is concerned about.

Suddenly there is pain. Enormous amounts of pain. Horrible pain, I think I am going to die. I cry. Huge hot wet tears. I'm scared and that hurt. My mom tells me to stop crying, that the worst part is over. I can't. It hurt, I can't let him touch me again. It will hurt.

Finally the doctor leaves the room to give me time to calm down. I'm pretty sure at this point I'm screaming. She doesn't hug me. There is no comfort. Just angry words. I'm acting ridiculous. The shot wasn't that bad. I'm embarrassing her and I need to just stop it right now.

Finally I calm down and the doctor returns. I lay on the table and brace myself for the worst. It is over in two seconds. No pain, I feel nothing. He puts a bandaid on my back and I am free to get dressed. See? You should have listened to me. I told you it wouldn't hurt and you made that entire scene for nothing.

She is right, I am wrong. She takes me back to the baby sitters. The pain is long sense gone, the trauma will never go away.

You show me yours

We are under a picnic table in the back yard. All the other kids are playing on the swing set. It is just T and I. We told all the others to go away. Leave us alone. We have to be quick. He wants to see, I want to see.

1,2,3... show...

Wow... is that what it looks like? That's like daddy's only smaller. He has done his duty, I do mine. Does he realize I have nothing for him to see? In five minutes it is over. We are innocent, just want to look. Want to see what all of the fuss is about. Then back to the swing set we go as if nothing ever happened.

Playing Doctor

There's a big chair in the baby sitter's basement. A large 70's type recliner. We have something similar at home. We go behind it, so the other kids don't see. T, J & I. Two boys, one girl all behind that chair for the same reason. T doesn't have any sisters, I don't have any brothers. J has a sister but she's mentally challenged. Perhaps she looks different.

We want to see, but we are caught. Just as we are getting to the "good" part someone comes down stairs. Asks what we are doing. Nothing, just playing. We come out and move on with our day.

A thief

I can still, even to this day see the image. We are walking along in the grocery store. On the ground I see a grape. I don't want anyone to step on it so I pick it up. I look around but there are no garbage cans. I can't put it back up with the grapes, someone might eat it, it has been on the floor.

I don't offer it to my mother, perhaps she is busy, perhaps it doesn't cross my mind. I put it in my pocket. When we get home I will throw it away. It is garbage. But we get home, and I don't remember. It stays in my pocket and then my mom does laundry and she finds the grape.

I remember she's screaming. I'm a thief, why would I steal? Hasn't she taught me better than that? What was I thinking? I'm crying, I can't help it. I try to tell her, try to get it through to her. It was on the floor. I didn't want someone to step on it. I didn't' steal it.

Finally, I think she gets it. I'm unsure that she believes me but she knows my side of the story and I am free to go. No apology, nothing. Just free to go. My mom thinks I'm a thief, why would she think I would steal? I'm a good girl....

Kindergarten Roundup

I have just turned five. I will be going to Kindergarten in the fall and it is now time for that wonderful tradition of kindergarten roundup. The one week at the end of the school year where all of the kindergartners go home and all of the preschoolers get to go to school.

I was a big kid. I could do this. I don't remember my mom taking me to school on the first day. I remember the big laminated paper crayons with our names on them. Something they could never do in today's day and age. These crayons were safety pinned to my front and my back. I stood on the deck for the obligatory picture and then the bus came.

The large bus that the big kids rode on. And I was getting on it to go to school all by myself.

Forgotten...

I'm at preschool, I'm waiting outside for my daddy to come and pick me up. I wait and wait. All of the other kids are gone and I am alone. Finally the teacher comes and tells me to come back inside.

They call my dad, he has forgotten to come and pick me up. They tell me I can play with the other kids that are there for afternoon preschool so I am happy and don't really notice how long it takes for him to get there.

Crying Game

I'm small. Four or five. I'm sitting in a room alone, dinning room, living room, I'm unsure. I'm crying. Not real crying.. fake doll crying. But I don't stop. I am holding my doll and I'm crying, boo hoo hoo, boo hoo hoo, 2 minutes, 5 minutes, maybe ten minutes. Over and over.

Finally my mom looks in on me. Is everything ok in here? I stop. I'm embarrassed. I'm just playing I tell her. She goes away and I am alone.