When I was about six we lived on the edge of a lake in a rented cabin. I swam in the summer and would watch the water-bombers glide in over the tree tops to skim the lake, scooping up thousands of gallons of water to dump on some forest fire too distant to know about. The planes are huge 4 engine Mars Martin ex- WWII ocean patrol planes. They would rumble in, too low to see for the trees and mountains, until suddenly they emerged overhead. Often the pilot would have to lift a wing to clear a tall tree before dropping in to start his run up the lake. We lived there for most of a year and at some point an older boy moved in two houses down.
I don't remember anything about him except once being in his house at night. Huge log home with vaulted ceilings and picture windows which looked over the lake by day and reflected the fire in their black panes at night. We were at his house, he was about 10, and I remember wondering how it was he could be alone in this place. He had a cold cooked ham on the counter and he sliced off peices for us and taught me to throw playing cards into a hat by flicking my wrist. I remember it to be a most amazing night, but not how I got to be there.
I have another memory of the same boy, a few years later in another town. Again I don't remember how we came to meet again or how I came to be in the forest with him. We walked up a stream with a lunch of things we had bought at the shop. We put bottles of soft drink in the stream to cool and he showed me a crayfish, which I had never seen before. When he reached in to pick up the crayfish a water snake swam out and bit his hand. I was worried this would be the end of my unusual adventure, but he shrugged it off and we spent the day exploring the woods and streams.
I can remember in great detail almost everything since I was three years old, every house I've lived in, teachers and school friends, conversations I've had... but I have no other memories of that boy except those two. I have no idea where he came from, what his name is, or where he went.
I have one other, much fainter memory from when I was about 3-4. Again in the woods, going through a hidden gap in the underbrush to emerge in a tiny grassy circle of sunlight, surrounded by dense forest. There was someone else there but I don't remember anything else.
I only just tonight put those three memories together and it's making me feel uneasy, though I don't know why. I wish I could remember what the boy said.
16 comments:
hmmmm... perhaps he was a timetraveler who went back to change the course of history by controling where you would be on those rare occations.
the real question here is, was this child on the side of the baboon army, or against it?
that's some spooky stuff
dunno. but i almost quit my job yesterday. after writing that post last night i woke up happy and decided not to go in today. maybe never. I am going outside to play with my dogs.
have a nice day everyone.
dont' forget, you have a dependant to feed.
no, i'm not talking about your kid (kids can forage for themselves) i'm talking about the computer. what will little hal-bert do without you buying him upgrades?
my wife works and, more importantly, actually wants me to quit. Of course the blog would suffer as I'd have nothing to complain about. It would turn into a happy rainbow lollipop blog.
On the flipside, you'd actually have more time to blog.
Do as your sugar mama says and quit the job so you can get started on the baboon army already. I'm tired of waiting for my orders.
Hi Skooks,
That boy was me!
Yes I was your neighbor for some time. You were a funny little kid. Very witty for your age!
Well, I'm in real estate now, and not doing too bad, although my wife Deserai thinks I work to hard.
Anyway... Tootles old friend!
nah I remember you Jenson. You were that kid that rode around on a bike with your hand down the front of your pants. The one mom said not to play with.
Hi to Dessy
Hmm, that's a kinda creepy tale.
what if, instead of just quitting you just do a really shitty job?
yeah, and one night bring in a shit load of sand, enough to turn your cubical into a sandbox, then bring a folding chair and a tanning light.
there is no cubicle, my office-bound friend. The entire factory is my office. That's the problem. If I go, there is nobody to run the factory and the company could fold. I don't want that, just an end to the shit.
Cut out fibre and eat lots of white bread instead. That'll stop the shit all right.
unfortunately Sandra, it's not my shit which needs regulating.
skook- i got it, go all howard hughes on their asses. show up in a bathrobe with tissue boxes on your feet.
insanity can be fun
that's it exile!...maybe i'll start calling everyone Greg.
"Ok Greg thanks, I'll tell Greg at the Greg meeting next Greg"
just wait until the greg hit's the fan
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