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A Child In Trouble

It is funny how you can view an action one way when you are younger, then as you grow up you can look back and laugh at how wrong you were before. Some of my fondest memories I like to think back on and play over in my head; almost as if they are small video that will someday make up the movie that is my life. These particular clips are those that I thought I would take to the grave, but now, I am laying them down before you.

Some of my proudest moments when I was younger were those that I 'got away with.' One of these I never quite got away with, because I never tried to hide it. Much of Rhode Island, and our entire farm was one giant swamp. It was crawling with frogs, bugs, and was thick in briars, ferns and beach trees. All of them towering with their smooth bark and soft leaves, crowded together. The only thing that made the hot humid days better were bare footed walks in the swamps, especially the swamp that resided in the goat pen. I'm not quite sure why, but this was my second favorite one on the farm. It was full of long coarse grass that could be tied at the top to make a teepee, and the mud was always deep and had just the right amount of water mixed in; and most of all, you were not allowed to walk bare foot in it. I briefly remember Mama giving reasons, something along the lines of: glass shards, rusty nails, and sharp objects. But that perfect squish between your toes was just too hard to resist. It was no secret that this was a rule I broke.

Some of the best broken rules are the ones you think are going to stay a secret forever. However, those are the ones that always seem to come to light. I can replay this clip in my head perfectly clear, there are no breaks or blank spots, and I suppose having the day light scared out of you can bring the world into a sharper perspective. Having two sets of neighbors it was sometimes hard to choose which one was the better one to spend a lazy afternoon with. It seems unfortunate that I can't remember the name of the two boys I was visiting that day, but I do remember that they had a black and white husky with stunning blue eyes, and that was one of the main reasons Savhanna and I chose to see them that day. The path to their house was around the goat pasture and the cow pasture which happened to be fenced in with two strings of electric hot fence, and with this memory, I can head Mama saying not to go through the cows pasture, go around. But what could cutting through one corner come to? Well, it came to one run away animal, a lost Barbie sneaker, and a cow on a house roof. Our secret corner cutting had become a well known happening.

Swamps, streams and forests provided the perfect playing board for long games of pretending to be Indians, fairies, and run away children. And everyone knows that you can never be a real Indian without a little potion making: frog eggs, stream slime, mud and our secret ingredient, chicken eggs. No one ever wanted to be the one to steal the eggs, but somehow being the youngest in the group, I was always made to go get them. It didn't matter where they came from, the fridge, the barn or the coup, so long as you got two, and so long as they were different colors. The thought of pocketing eggs comes in many long film clip that take place at different houses that were filled with people just as excited to make concoctions as I was.

Moving to Kentucky was the largest adventure I have had in my entire life. 100 acres of new land to explore, new streams to splash in, and countless trees to climb, all of it was just two days away. Little did I know that I moved with the world's most cautious mother. Under every rock, in every tree and every stream were poisonous snakes, spiders and an assortment of other nasty creatures, and at the far end of our property was, in my younger eyes, the biggest river I have ever seen. In reality, it is a shallow fair sized creek that is mostly dry in the heat of summer. However in the eyes of an overly protective mother it was a death trap. Little to my mother's knowing Savhanna and I use to sneak out more often and not, and sit on the cliff, just watching the river.

My last and most tightly held secret has never seen the light of day. It is made up of many small videos, all mashed together as accurately as possible to make a fuller picture. It takes place in the swamps of Rhode Island, in the back yard of The Mean Ladies House. Savhanna, Jesse our neighbor and I were the best of friends, and our grandest adventure was our most secret of secrets. It all started with a fish, and in my memory this fish was the brightest colors of the rainbow, though for some reason I don't believe that it actually was. It was probably just some part of my imagination, that or I let go the coolest fish in the world. However, after finding this fish we decided to go deeper up the second stream and see what else was beyond. What we found was a nice house with lovely flower gardens, a spectacular pond and the most amazing teepee. What did you expect us to do? We had to check it out. I specifically remember the teepee, because it went all the way around the tree and had pliable green vines growing up it, morning glory maybe? However, the clearest part of my memory is when a woman, later named 'The Mean Lady,' came running and screaming out of her house. I couldn't quite make out what she was saying, and we sure didn't stick around to find out. Every once and awhile we would bring up 'The Mean Lady,' but no one ever knew of it until now.

I always like to think back on my previous actions and enjoy them with those that were or were not there with me. Each one seems to be one little film clip, one small look into what eventually becomes the movie that is my life.



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