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I have always been a tom boy. Well at least, that’s the way I grew up. Nothing would please me more than running through the grass with my brothers, climbing trees, playing marbles, hide and seek or “Police and Dread” with the boys from the neighbourhood.
I remember climbing a tree which stood in our front yard. A
I remember climbing a tree which stood in our front yard. A
miserable looking thing it was. Tall, bare, and as I would find out later; feeble. For a reason that completely escapes me now, I had climbed that tree. Up and up I went until I had gotten to the very top, and could go no further. As I recovered from the thrill of it all, and decided to descend, I realised that the branch that I would have had to step on to climb down, was too far below me to reach. If that wasn't trouble enough, the slightest move I made would cause the tree to sway precariously from side to side. It was quickly becoming clear that I may have gone a little too far.
So, how does a 10 year old girl get out of a tree?... SCREAM FOR DADDY! And that is exactly what I did. I remember seeing him bolt out of the house trying to locate me. After a few seconds he looked up and realised where I was. He was visibly shocked, as the sweat drops erupted on his brow. He would later run to the neighbours, who had already begun gathering in the front yard, to fetch a ladder. Somehow, he managed to get me out. And, although the neighbours all thought it funny and would be talking about it for days, my mother was not amused. When I was brought in, she couldn't decide whether she should be angry or relieved as warnings and words of comfort streamed out of her mouth in a muddle of words that I didn't quite understand.
On another occasion, I was crawling through the hedges in our back yard, and happened across a piece of plastic, printed with a very strange pattern. I had sat there for a while holding it up to the light, examining the ripples and curls of the lines which ran along my new find. Eventually, I carried it into the house with me, and excitedly called out to my Mom, thrusting my new treasure into her opened hands. I watched curiously as her faced morphed from apparent confusion to a terror that I have yet again to witness in my life. As if in slow motion, my precious bit of plastic went hurling across the room, while my Mom catapulted in the opposite direction.
The result of the phone call that she had made after that was a search party of 4 men from the area searching for a large Boa in our back yard. It was found the next day in our neighbour’s yard, and killed. There was no way for me to know that my interesting little piece of plastic was really the molted skin of a very large snake. I apologized for that one.
There was nothing graceful about my movements. Ahhhh… and how my mother dispissed my boyish antics. And not the least of these was the constant bruises and scratches which were the result of my daily adventures and expeditions. I clearly remember her saying, “One day, you’ll want these scars to disappear. You’ll want a boy to like you someday.” She seemed pained, and I hadn’t understood why. In my innocence, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the way I lived, and I would not change.
My adventures after that were numerous- some of which I will recount later.. More quickly maybe if I am bribed with a very good book!
So, how does a 10 year old girl get out of a tree?... SCREAM FOR DADDY! And that is exactly what I did. I remember seeing him bolt out of the house trying to locate me. After a few seconds he looked up and realised where I was. He was visibly shocked, as the sweat drops erupted on his brow. He would later run to the neighbours, who had already begun gathering in the front yard, to fetch a ladder. Somehow, he managed to get me out. And, although the neighbours all thought it funny and would be talking about it for days, my mother was not amused. When I was brought in, she couldn't decide whether she should be angry or relieved as warnings and words of comfort streamed out of her mouth in a muddle of words that I didn't quite understand.
On another occasion, I was crawling through the hedges in our back yard, and happened across a piece of plastic, printed with a very strange pattern. I had sat there for a while holding it up to the light, examining the ripples and curls of the lines which ran along my new find. Eventually, I carried it into the house with me, and excitedly called out to my Mom, thrusting my new treasure into her opened hands. I watched curiously as her faced morphed from apparent confusion to a terror that I have yet again to witness in my life. As if in slow motion, my precious bit of plastic went hurling across the room, while my Mom catapulted in the opposite direction.
The result of the phone call that she had made after that was a search party of 4 men from the area searching for a large Boa in our back yard. It was found the next day in our neighbour’s yard, and killed. There was no way for me to know that my interesting little piece of plastic was really the molted skin of a very large snake. I apologized for that one.
There was nothing graceful about my movements. Ahhhh… and how my mother dispissed my boyish antics. And not the least of these was the constant bruises and scratches which were the result of my daily adventures and expeditions. I clearly remember her saying, “One day, you’ll want these scars to disappear. You’ll want a boy to like you someday.” She seemed pained, and I hadn’t understood why. In my innocence, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the way I lived, and I would not change.
My adventures after that were numerous- some of which I will recount later.. More quickly maybe if I am bribed with a very good book!
4 comments:
I love love love your story and waiting for more.
I too was a tomboy.Loved climbing trees.Always had bruises on my skinny white legs and every Sunday my Mom would put foundation make up on them before church.
sounds like my kinda childhood, except for the part where u were calling for ur daddy, lol. is that a true story?
LOL... its all true.. every last bit of it. ESPECIALLY the Daddy part. How else was i supposed to get down?
Good life...Foundation?? LOL... and i though MY Mom was paranoid!! LOL... that makes me feel a whole lot better! LOL.. why dont you post some stories of your own?
Lovely stories & a well written post as always. My sisters nickname for me when I was a child growing up was 'Tomboy'.
At the back of our house was a playing field. I remember playing football quite a few times there with the lads from the neighbourhood.
Unknown to me my dad would arrive home early from work & see me playing football with the lads & shout out across the road "get your backside home & read a book".
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