As an only child, I spent most of my time with her parents. Nana never bothered getting her license, so we hung around the farm when Papa went to work. She spent a lot of time in the kitchen baking and caning. My curiosity brought me to join her.
When I couldn't, she always made sure I had something to do to keep me out of her hair. A cassette playing country on the old boombox would get me singing and dancing while she washed the dishes, though often, I played quietly at the kitchen table.
Entertaining myself indoors brought her to ask why I never wanted to go outside. The fear in my eyes pushed her to insist. Nana became irate when I said she would lock me out until my mom got home. Crying, as I believed myself in trouble, I sent myself to my room.
After that, she took me to the barn for afternoon chores, showed me how to weed the garden, and brought me on walks with the large grey husky. I found I loved playing outside. Unburdened by fear with her continued acts of kindness, I felt optimistic about the future.
I contained everything I needed and getting into trouble no longer delivered capital punishment. Growing up on open fields provided few options for developing social skills where no children lived close by, but my spirited self absorbed everything I could.
Where is the place you feel safest?
Don't forget to vote.
YOU ARE READING
The Boy I Could Never Love
Non-FictionYou know I always liked you?" When you carry a pit of self-loathing, your world resides in your head. Bullying and a dysfunctional home life contributed to my contempt for myself. I could not stand the skin I lived in. My name brought me pain. Eve...
