The Trials of Playing

Jack and Roxi have a vacant lot next to their house. It is the perfect place for Hide-and-Seek, or tag, or fort building.

Jack, Georgie, Phillip, and I head outside to breathe in the fresh air and run out the ants that were always in our pants.

Roxi, Maria, Wendy, and Lela are still inside where there is air conditioning.

I breathe in deep, relishing the sun's rays on my skin and the sound of the leaves crunching beneath my feet, as I follow the boys to the fort.

It is just a floor suspended between three trees about 10 feet off the ground, but it is magical to be up in a tree.

"After we nail the boards to the trunk for the second floor, we'll play Hide-and-Seek," Jack informs us.

"That's a good plan," Georgie agrees. "How many boards do we need?"

"Four."

I look up and narrow my eyes at the space above us. It is a pretty wide expanse between the three trees, and it is much higher up. I don't think Jo is gonna go for a second floor of the tree house.

"That's gonna be too high up," I inform Jack. "I bet your mom doesn't let you."

"Then why do I have the boards for the steps up here already?" he asks me, his hands set on his hips.

"Did you ask your mom?" Georgie wants to know, probably realizing the same thing I am.

Jack rolls his eyes and doesn't answer the question. Instead he tells Phillip to grab some nails from the bucket and he picks up one of the boards.

I sigh and sit, watching the three boys nail four boards into the trunk of the tree. Jack steps back and admires their work, declaring it to be perfect. We climb back down, ready to play Hide-and-Seek, but I don't want to play with only three hiders.

"I'm gonna go get the girls."

I dash inside, hollering for the girls, taking the stairs two at a time. I find them arguing because Wendy and Lela were spying on Roxi and Maria while they were playing college girls. I holler above their arguing, "The boys wanna play Hide-and-Seek. Do y'all wanna come play?"

Wendy and Lela giggle and stick their tongues out at Roxi and Maria, completely ignoring me. Roxi and Maria screech to see the protruding tongues and I start to get impatient. Jack isn't going to wait forever.

I holler again, "Let's play Hide-and-Seek!"

Maria whips around and glares at me. "I don't want to sweat, Kara!"

I roll my eyes, put my hands on my hips, and yell, "Well, you aren't gonna run that much anyway!"

"Then why do you want me to play?" she says, raising one eyebrow just like my mother.

I groan and flounce off. It is so annoying trying to get a good game of Hide-and-Seek going. I can't afford to argue with them anymore because Jack is going to get impatient and find something else to do if I don't hurry up.

I run outside to find the boys gone. Disappointed, I walk back inside.

Well...at least I know his mother isn't going to let him build a second floor and now I'm glad Wendy and Lela are annoying Maria and Roxi...

I decide to go help them.

Dutiful Catholics Continued

"Because, Dear Heart, if God gives you a gift you must use it in service to Him. You share your time and your talent so others might do the same."

So advises, with a raised eyebrow and a calm, steady, English teacher tone, Mylin. My mother always gives a rebuttal with a formal tone and a raised brow.

It was at this point I became aware that she would expect the same from me.

I am scared...

Dutiful Catholics

Oh, wouldn't it be great if there was a nursery at church? Parents could actually listen to the homily instead of whispering in a fierce, yet God-like tone, "Get off the floor." "Stop jumping." "Don't turn around." "Be quiet."

Parents could sing without having to keep tiny hands off the pages of the hymnal for fear of that sickening sound echoing high into the rafters....Rip!

Oh, how wonderful that would be!

And, even better, it could be open on Thursday evenings during choir practice. More adults would join the choir and wouldn't have to pay for a babysitter! Grace and Jo would trade off watching the lovely children and...another brilliant idea...we could teach them about their Catholic faith through song and dance and coloring!

Such dutiful Catholics...

So, it was all wrecked. Everything. Ruined.

No more bowling alley. No more balance beam. No more sliding down the stairs with the couch cushion.

No more...

Why, oh, why does my mother have to always get involved?

Eating At The Table

Canned tomatoes...

Red, large, watery...disgusting.

Mom put those in almost everything she made. It made supper not always enjoyable, but I ate. Luckily, I had something to distract me.

"Hi, girls! What y'all up to? Eatin'? You eat it all up now."

The chair scrapes out and he sits down.

"Well," he says, after filling his plate, "what'd y'all do today?"

Shouts of "I played wif my dolls!", "I drew a picture!", "I didn't get into trouble!" go 'round the table. He smiles.

"That's good. That's real good. Well, I heard a new one today."

"Drum!" my mom warns.

We all get quiet, looking at Dad out of the corner of our eyes and trying very hard not to grin.

Mom gets up to get something for Bill. Dad leans in and whispers, "Did you hear the one about the dog that walks into-"

"Drummond!" Mom yells, her head popping up from behind the refrigerator door. "No inappropriate jokes!"

"Alright, Mylin."

We sit back, but we know the funny isn't over. We eat some and the silence stretches. Mom comes back to the table and begins to feed Bill.

"This dog walks into a bar and says-"

"Drummond Atterbury stop telling these girls your jokes!"

He leans back and grins at us. And then he winks. Even as young as we are we know he's flirting with our mom and --- he's gonna tell us that joke later. It's just fun to watch them argue. And he NEVER stopped. No matter how hot and bothered she got.

He leans across the table again. "Hey, Maria," he whispers.

Mom pauses and raises an eyebrow at him.

"Come hear for a second."

Maria scoots off her chair and stops beside Dad. We are all waiting. I can barely contain my excitement, my legs are swinging back and forth like they're wiper blades on steroids.

"Pull my finger!" he tells her.

"Drummond!" Mom yells, popping up from her chair, but she is too late and a very inappropriate sound rips through the air.

A Tragic Sleepover

My first sleepovers were either at Roxi's house or with a family my parents went to college with. They had two boys and one was my age. We had fun together.

One evening we spent the night and when we woke up, Wendy's cheek was swollen to twice its size.

I don't remember anyone being very scared, but all the adults were trying to figure out what had happened and if she should go to the emergency room.

I was sitting next to her on the couch, while she sat in my dad's lap. I stared hard at her, trying to figure out why her cheek was sticking out like she maybe had a bouncy ball inside her mouth, pressed up against the side of her face.

She wasn't crying, but staring right back at me, telling me without words to figure it out and fix it.

The adults were all chattering around us, trying to decide what to do. I narrowed my eyes at her face, turned my head slightly to the left, then to the right. She copied me.

Then, I reached up, touched her check, and snapped my hand back in surprise. It was so hard! Almost like she did have a bouncy ball pressed up against the inside of her cheek!

And that was when I remembered! Wendy had been sticking this toy in her mouth the night before. It was a little kitty cat with a fat, round bottom in place of its legs. I concluded she must have fallen asleep with it in her mouth, and now her cheek was permanently stuck out there for all the world to see!

I proudly announced my findings. The adults disagreed.

I argued. Argued some more.

"We probably just need to get a needle and pop it!" I told them. They ignored me and took her to the emergency room.

I didn't see her for the rest of the day, or the next day. I was worried. I started wondering if she was going to be allowed to come home, but I couldn't say that to anyone. Maria was beside herself with sadness and Mom and Dad would panic if I brought it up.

So, I waited. And waited.

Dad finally took us to the hospital to see her. I was sitting in a chair in a small waiting room staring down a very large, never-ending, stark white hallway when I saw her.

She was holding Mom's hand and they were walking toward us. I jumped up and shouted to Maria, "There she is!"

She was wearing jeans and a blue, long sleeve shirt. I could feel my smile splitting my face.

But, before she even got half-way down the longest hallway in the world, Dr. Stanley swooped in, picked her up and carried her off!

I was livid! "That's my sister!" I cried. "Where is he taking her?"

Mom finally reached us and said, "He's figured out what kind of spider bit her, and now he can give her the medicine she needs."

I put my hands on my hips and glared at her. "So, she didn't swallow the cat toy?"

With the utmost seriousness Mom replies, "No, she didn't swallow the cat toy."

She was home that afternoon.

It's A Bird! It's A Plane!

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

A page turns.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The tea pot whistles.

Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. The opening of a cabinet door. The clink of china on china.

Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. The creak of a divan.

A pair of brown eyes look up from times font and watches the rim of a dainty china tea cup disappear behind lips stained with Instant Mocha. Amazingly enough, the way she curves her lips over the rim makes it impossible for any of the lip stick to come off.

The eyes return to the book and, while there are still 30 minutes left of reading time, reading is an absolute joy, and with over 1000 books in the house, there is something for everyone.

Tick, tock, tick, tock. Another page turns.

BANG!

The kitchen door busts open and in walks muscles and angled jaw line.

"Hey, kids! Watcha up to?" a voice hollers. All attention is centered on the broad shoulders plowing through the kitchen and into the living room where the divans hold two little girls, one mother, and one grandmother.

"I fixed the light switch in the garage and stopped at Mike's for some watermelon. I took your car to get the oil changed and got to talkin' to the preacher's wife. Did you know Mrs. (So-and-so) broke her hip? Geez is that gonna be difficult for her kids."

Swoosh! He sits down in the arm chair, his eyes snapping with energy. "What are y'all doing? What's going on tonight? Oh!" He pops back up. "I forgot to get y'all a new television. I'll be back."

The kitchen door slams.

My grandmother looks at my mother and raises an eyebrow. "I guess he didn't need any answers to his questions."

Eyes go back to books.

That was my uncle. My mother's baby brother. The bull in my grandmother's china cabinet. I don't think he would've appreciated reading time.

He took care of things. And of people. He calls. He would walk across a highway if he saw you on the other side just to ask how you did. I think Ben Franklin really used the blood in my uncle's veins to make electricity.

He was larger than life to me, always busy, always in the middle of it all, and he looked so much like Superman, or Clark Kent, or Christopher Reeve, whichever.

I'll call him Uncle Clark. So, one quick question -- What the heck is a divan? I always looked for them in Grandmother's living room. I still haven't found them.

Parent

Every once in awhile we are given rare opportunities to be angels on earth. It is in these moments we find out how selfless we are. It is a greater test than one of our physical stamina, though sometimes being selfless takes physical strength.

My mother has been tested to the limits of her endurance throughout her life. Why that is, I cannot tell you. God has his reasons for things and it is pointless to analyze, explain, or question. He does not make mistakes...

I haven't written about Bill and his medical condition for a few months. This is to mirror how it was for me as a child...done...over...a thing of the past.

That is a luxury we have as children. We don't have to pick up pieces, do damage control, smooth ruffled feathers, or dry tears. Our parents, on the other hand, have to see a problem through to its end.

There were lots of doctor visits, tests, sleepless nights, prayers, and medicine. I am sure she was on edge for 15 months, waiting for seizures, and praying they would stop.

Detecting a seizure in an infant is almost impossible. Often doctors miss them even while the child is in their care. I know my mother watched my brother like a hawk, noticing every twitch, every day dreamy expression, willing God to allow her to see within Bill and predict when and where it would happen.

I know this because I could feel it within her as a child. Often I prayed for her as much as I did Bill. I may not have liked church, but I used the direct line to God to exhaustion.

Whenever I think back on what my parents must have gone through, I am always awed. I used to wonder how they captured the strength to get through those years.

As a thirty-six-year-old I now know from where they drew their strength...

Love.

A phenomenal emotion. Powerful. Determined. Selfless and true.

Some of you might disagree with me and say it was God that gave them the strength, but you are forgetting what God is. He is love. God is love.

So, it was love that gave my mother the ability to lie on a gurney in Sunday dress, hose, and heels with Bill laying on her torso, not moving a muscle for three hours straight because it was the best and most peaceful sleep he'd had in awhile.

My mother...love weakened her and strengthened her...and she did great things.

"And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. And the greatest of these is love." 1 Corinthians 13:13