Letter Challenge Day Seventeen – Someone from my childhood
*shuffles feet awkwardly* It’s not awkward that I’m talking to you, but that… well, there are other people reading this. Are you okay with this? Am I okay with this? Too late now. I already put you in the header.
Hello, friend. You know all about my childhood. It was quite abnormal.
Normal people would think three brothers (and more that came) were enough to keep them company.
Normal people would be satisfied with girl friends who they could have sleep overs with.
Normal people didn’t get you at all.
You didn’t like normal people, and that was just fine with me. I needed you all to myself. I sort of shared you with Emily, but she couldn’t handle the boys teasing and she didn’t play with us that much. You were the best. Together we climbed trees and played house. You defended me against my brothers being mean and teased me when I did something dumb. If I cried, you pat my shoulder. If I got mad you always listened. For years you were my truest friend and champion.
Too bad I made you up.
One afternoon, Mum had sent me to the garage to switch the loads of laundry. The clothes were heavy from being wet and I thought lifting them into the dryer would be so much easier if I could pretend someone was doing it for me. Emily tried, but she was always less strong than I was so we got nowhere. Then out of the blue you were standing behind us with a young-Elijah-Wood-smirk (not that you looked like E.W. because you didn’t) asking, “Could I do it?” And you did. It was so easy when you helped. I stood up straight after the dryer was set and said, “Thanks, Jack!” That’s how you were borned.
I took you with me everywhere. There were days I didn’t need you at all and days when I needed you quite a lot. Whenever I wanted someone to talk to, there you were. You grew up with me in a way. My muse tried to replace you, but you refused to be replaced. I had dreams about you and I wrote them down.
Hey Jack, remember this?
[Taken from Word Document; Once I Dreamt: A Collection of Dreams I Had and Wrote Down. Dated 2006]
Jack beckoned me to the middle of the room.
“Look at that,” he beamed.
I saw a full length mirror with no stand, leaning up against a stack of boxes and a scratched table. Its frame rounded slightly at the top, and the edges were carved with beautiful scrolls. Unlike the rest of the odds and ends filling the room, it looked untouched by time and still held a remarkable sheen.
“Wow,” I gawked. “That’s really something.”
“Wait until you see what it does.”
Jack stepped forward and didn’t stop walking, even when he was less than an inch away from the mirror. Instead of receiving a bump to the head and a red face from his efforts, he slipped right through the glassy screen and disappeared from view.
I scrunched up my face and blinked, “Is this another Phantom dream?”
“Beth, get over here.”
I cautiously pushed my face forward instead of my hand. What looked like glass felt instead like water. Water that made me feel neither wet, nor cold. My hair was gently tugged away from my face as I went a little further and stepped into an open field of wheat colored grass. Strangely, the brownish stuff didn’t scratch or irritate my skin like dried grass normally does, and the entire area was free of burs and thistles.
The only thing in the field, besides a hidden creek that we could hear, but not see, was a great oak tree that shadowed a portion of the land.
The field dream! Of course you remember that. Just like you remember the time I took you on vacation and you said the rocks from the cliff side were definitely going to crash onto our car and kill everyone. I don’t know why I needed you to scare me half to death when I had brothers to do it, but I did. I haven’t really talked to you for five years. You don’t mind because you always understand. If ever I’m locked in a dark trunk or stranded on an island, I’ll probably talk to you a lot so I don’t forget English. I’ve been thinking of writing a children’s story featuring you, but that’s going in the Writing Folder of Doom until other things are completed.
Here’s us when we were little.
To whom it may concern: I am not abusing a G.I. Joe in that picture. He is in fact missing an arm and I’m saving him from abandonment. I did that a lot. I took broken army men and had a hospital drawer so the boys didn’t kill them dead. Even before I saw Toy Story 2.