Childhood

I wonder at what point was my inner child lead down a dreary corridor by the hand. I imagine my young self eyes wide and bluer than they are now casting an unsure glance over her shoulder. This was a new place, a place she doesn't want to stay. She looks up and I look down. It's hard to remember not being able to see over the counter...

It's a hall of memories. Behind each door a scene plays out, most are happy, some anxious, others ...tainted. As we walk, we brush shoulders with others coming and going. Those who walk alone are disjointed in their movements and an expression passes over their face, like they've missed something important. But, a moment later they've shaken whatever it was from their minds and move forward with purpose. These are always walking in the opposite direction of myself and always alone. And I wonder, what am I doing here? The little one clinging to my hand seems to be asking the same question.

Others with young companions like myself, fall into various categories. Some are dragging the child behind them with resolved firmness, others have paused, some are wiping away tears, yet more have hoisted the child onto their hip uncertain. No one seems to like it here, but no one ever seems to consider going back. A chill settles in the pit of my stomach and suddenly I feel protective. Without really thinking, I hoist the younger version of myself into my arms and joined the ranks of the "uncertain."

An invisible tug demands that I go forward, and I do so reluctantly. Was it just me or was it getting darker? The child in my arms buries her face into my shoulder and I wish I could do the same. This place no longer feels like a hall of memories, more like a memory graveyard or prison.

We reach a line and I can't see what lies ahead, instinct whispers, "run." I look around and see others in my confused and agitated state. My grip on the child tightens and she in turn clings in response. I'm preparing for something, I'm just not sure what and then I realize I've reached the front of the throng. I choke. I gag, but mostly I rebel.

A cloked stranger holds their arms out. I know what they want, but I won't give her up not without a fight. And suddenly, I remember I've been here before, by myself. I was much smaller then. I'd seen the shackles, the frightened faces, the drab grey, the never ending line. They tried to take me away. Stuff me into a horror of a cell to rot and be forgotten.

They were decent enough to be sad that I had come to this place so early, not so early as others, but early enough to mourn. It did not change the fate laid out for me. But I surprised them by nashing my pearly baby teeth and kicking shins for all that I was worth. And I ran, back the way I had come, towards light towards anything but what lie behind me. Startled faces and cries of out rage. Something snatched my ankle and I sobbed as it burned and I tumbled. Without remorse, I kicked hard and was free to run once more. I didn't stop until I reached sunlight and even then I wasn't compelled to rest until I was far, far away.

As I stand now infront of this thing demanding that I hand over the child clinging to my shoulders, my ankle begins to throb in rememberance. Its long since been healed, but there's a scar. Readjusting the weight in my arms, I take a step backwards. This gives the figure before me pause.

"So, you're that one." It says in an interested tone, "We wondered what happened to you."

"Guess you'll have to keep on wondering," I fire back and shot through the crowd back the way I'd come. Most decide to get out my way, some even follow me which gave me courage. It was like dejavu. We were being chased, of course we were. I was running again, my younger self a terror stricken weight in my arms. I ached, but I didn't stop, neither did those behind me. I didn't realize it at first but I was shouting at those I passed. "Run! Turn back! Run! Don't give up!"

My bellowing knocked some of them out of their confused stupor, still more continued on as though I'd never passed and few of those disjointed adults moving along on their own froze as if they'd just remembered something. With wild cries, they threw themselves at our pursuers and then continued on as if to reclaim what they had freely if unwittingly given.

Looking forward, there was light ahead and for a beautful moment I was blinded as I stumbled out into it. There was a tug and I looked into my own face only years younger. She smiled and gave me hug. She wasn't perfect or unblemished by any means, but she was mine. I saw scrapes on her knees and elbows, probably learning how to ride without training wheels. Colored chalk plastered her hands from doodling on the sidewalk and jumping hopscotch. Grass stains were on her bottom and her hair was wind blown. And I could tell she was absently occupied with a loose tooth.

Somewhere along the line she became transparent, and I could see straight into that little heart. It had been broken, assaulted by selfishness and life. But as I watched, that broken heart continue to beat. I saw a hand that I would come to know, smooth a healing salve over it and wrap it with care. I watched her as she talked with imaginary friends that I still remember and on occassion still see. I watched her place her right hand over the left side of her chest and hum in tempo with her mending pulse. She ran to me and took my hand asking if I'd be interested in meeting her pet elephant before we went home.

I let her babble, listening with one ear as I looked inside myself and shook "hands" with a sizeable African elephant that I believe I met for the first time on my grandparent's farm. I came to understand what an amazing creature I was, despite being damaged and scarred. There's a certain beauty, not in the damage or the scars, but in the healing, of taking something shattered and once again making it whole.

My childhood wasn't perfect, but it was full of the wonderful fantastical discoveries of life and love. And while a few ominous clouds hang in the corners and are still my companions, I would never give it up. It's the precious moments of laughter, pretend, and "I love you" that sustain me. Sometimes when I look in the mirror I can still see the same impish blue eyes and if I really try, somewhere over my right shoulder I can still see that elephant.



Um, don't ask, cuz I have no idea. And even if I did, I don't know if I'd want to share.