Thursday, March 8, 2007
It's a Secret
Aaron is calling for confessions at his blog. Because mine is a little long, I decided to post here and not hog comment space.
When I was about 5, my uncle decided to build a hunting cabin on a corner of the farm he and my mom grew up on. We went out one weekend to see how they were progressing. I honestly can't remember how far along they were at this point but I do know they'd dug out a hole for the septic system. My second cousins who were a little younger (let's call them Mickey and Alfie) were there. I hated them. They were little blond monsters with bowlcuts who thought they were adorable but behaved like little thugs. Their parents and grandparents laughed about how ornery they were when they talked about how the boys broke a window or hit a person in the head with a rock. Anyway, the adults had gone off to look at something and we were wandering around.
I wanted to be with the grownups but was saddled with my cousins. We were wandering around the edges of the septic pit looking down into it. It had obviously been dug for a while: the bottom was a mucky, muddy, algae covered mess; and there was a noticeable odor rising up from it. I can't remember if Mickey (the older cousin) did anything particular to anger me, or if his very being was what forced my hand. He had gotten very close to the edge of the hole and his brother was a little ways away, looking at rocks or something. I looked around, didn't see any adults and pushed him into the pit. He hit the mud and came up, covered in scum and muck but didn't cry. I moved back from the pit and forced myself to cry. A huge, snotty, red-faced crying fit. Then I started yelling for my family. I went running in their direction screaming about "He got too close to the edge...I told him not to....but he didn't listen" or something like that. They came running and my dad and uncle got him out of the muddy mess and handed him over to my aunt who preceded to give him a world class spanking for not listening.