April 6, 2010 part 1: Point of View

Here's part one, point of view. Part two will come in time. Great things come to those who wait, right??
A childhood memory as I remember it

My little sister sat in the middle of the kitchen floor in her turquoise jammies. She sounded like a seal as she cried so hard. I covered my ears and asked my mom why she wouldn’t stop crying. My mom covered the receiver of the phone and told me to be quiet because she was on the phone with someone important. I sat next to Lorie on the floor and tried to give her my Barbie doll to make her stop crying but she just cried harder and barked more. My mom hung up the phone and I followed her as she went into my bedroom and started packing my going-to-grandma’s bag. I asked her if I was going to grandma’s and she said yes. I asked her why and she told me that Lorie was sick and had to go to the hosibal. I started jumping around and my mommy told me to be quiet and find my smurf blankie. I went back to the kitchen and brought Lorie my gizmo doll and told her that I was going to grandma’s and she was going to the hosibal to get better. Her face was so red and she was crying so hard that I started to cry too. My mommy came and sat on the kitchen floor with us until my grandma and grandpa got to our house. Grandma told me it was time to go but I told her I couldn’t. I had my jimmies on, I couldn’t go with jimmies on, I needed clothes. Grandpa picked me up and told me he would carry me. I was scared when we went outside. It was dark and the wind was blowing so hard that grandpa had to hold on to me so tight so I wouldn’t blow away. I saw the lightning and started to cry when thunder came so loud it hurt my ears. I fell asleep in the backseat of the car and didn’t wake up until the morning. For two dark naps I stayed at my grandma’s house. I ate lots of cookies and read books and had tea parties. One day grandma told me we had to go back home. When we got back to my house my grandma told me I would have to be very careful. When I got out of the car my dad was there with a loud machine. He was cutting tree branches. I started to cry. On the night that Lorie had to go to the hosibal a bad storm came to my house and made a tree fall down on my swing set. Now I didn’t have anything to play on. My daddy told me to go in the house and see my sister. I didn’t want to. I went back to my grandma’s car and got in and sat in the backseat. This was all Lorie’s fault. If she wouldn’t have gotten sick my daddy could have been there to catch the tree and save my swing set.

The reminiscent narrator
I heard the telltale seal-like bark of my sister’s cough as soon as I cam into the kitchen. There Lorie sat in the middle of the kitchen floor surrounded by teethers and baby keys, blocks and balls, probably Mom’s attempt at soothing her. Her red face and blue lips provided a stark contrast to her pale turquoise sleeper. On and on she cried, and I wanted her to stop but at the same time I was so scared for her. I’d never her seen her like this before.
I heard my mom’s voice, urgently explaining, “She’s been like this for two hours… yes, I’ve tried the shower, I’ve taken her outside, nothing is working!” Her voice danced on the edge of hysteria. It scared me to see my mom like this so I walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her leg.
“Mommy, what’s wrong with Lorie?” My voice sounded little and scared.
“Shhh, I’m on the phone with someone important,” she shook me off her leg and pushed me back in the direction of the baby. I crawled over to my baby sister and offered her a toy. She pushed it away and cried on.
I heard Mom hang up the phone and I followed her as she left the kitchen and walked into my bedroom. I plodded after her, the feet of my sleeper making shh shh shh sounds on the wood floor as I walked. “What are you doing?” I wanted to know as I watched her open the drawers of my dresser and throw clothes into my Raindow Brite duffle bag.
“I have to take your sister to the hospital. She’s sick,” she explained. She didn’t seem to be paying much attention to what she packed or how much. As she threw one thing after another into the bag without stopping to match things like she usually did, and as she struggled to zip the bag, I started to wonder how long I’d be gone. I was just about to ask when she said, “Get your smurf blankie so you’re ready when your grandma and grandpa get here.”
I hurried off to find my blankie. I didn’t want to give her any reason to be angry with me because she already sounded mad. Maybe it was because Lorie was sick, or maybe it was because she was alone with two kids while my dad was gone on another long trip. Either way, I didn’t want to make things worse. I found my blanket stuffed under a cushion on the couch and my Gizmo doll lying next to it. I decided I would give this to Lorie for good luck. Gizmo, of course, could conquer evil, at least that is what I learned from watching the Gremlins movies.
I went back into the kitchen and saw my mom sitting on the floor next to Lorie, holding her in her lap. I sat down next to her and handed Lorie my Gizmo doll. “Is Lorie going to be okay?” I asked. I could feel tears prickling in my eyes because as I watched my little sister wheeze and cough I wondered if she’d be okay.
“I don’t know honey,” my mom answered.
We sat there in the middle of the kitchen floor together rocking back and forth. Suddenly the kitchen door opened and in walked my grandparents, stomping their feet and panting. “It is terrible out there!” my grandma huffed!
I didn’t really understand what they meant but I jumped to my feet, eager for a night with my favorite people. All at once I realized, I was only wearing pajamas. “I can’t go like this! I don’t have clothes on!” I giggled.
Before I knew what was happening my grandfather gathered me into his arms and started walking out the door. “You can’t be walking out there anyways. You’ll blow away!” he said. My grandma picked up my purple duffle and closed the door behind us. I don’t even remember saying goodbye to my sister or mother. My mind was on the fun that was to come at my grandparents’ house.
Once outside I threw my arms around my grandpa’s neck and buried my face in his chest. The wind tore at us and I felt like it was trying to tear me away from my grandfather’s fierce grip. A streak of lightening zigzagged through the sky and barely a second passed before thunder roared in my ears. I started to cry, afraid that the storm would get me and take me away. I felt the reassuring hand of my grandfather on my back, patting me and his voice, loud over the thunder promising that everything would be all right.
Grandpa balanced me on one arm while he opened the back door of the car and settled me in the backseat. As we drove away the voices of my grandparents lulled me to sleep.
I woke the next morning as sun streamed through the window brightening the walls of my apricot colored bedroom. I gathered my blanket into my arms and padded down the stairs and into the kitchen where I found my grandparents waiting, ready to fill my day with cookies, games and adventures.
For two days the only reminder I had of my ailing sister were the phone calls I received from my parents, calling from the hospital to check in on me. Lorie was fine, they assured me, just croup, and she’d be home soon. I could hear Lorie playing with Gizmo in the background, his telltale “squeak, squeak,” was all the evidence I needed to know that things would be okay. For the time I was the recipient of all of the love that my grandparents possibly could share with me. We read books, shared stories, drew pictures and I combed the Sears catalog making plans for my letter to Santa.
After waking from my nap on the third day at my grandparents’ house I sadly helped my grandma pack up my belongings. She seemed just as wistful as I felt. We drove in almost silence to my home,. As we pulled in the driveway I could tell that something wasn’t right. My dad was home and I could hear the “whirrrr” of the chainsaw, a sound I didn’t often hear on our farm.
When I got out of the car and started to run to my dad’s side a stern hand stopped me, “be careful,” my grandfather warned. It was then that I realized exactly what wasn’t right. Where once stood a hundred year old oak was a hole, and a tangle of angry branches. The trunk, almost as tall as me at first obscured my view but my determination to assess the entire situation propelled me on and I climbed over the mountainous limb only to come face to face with my worst nightmare. There, not ten feet in front of me was a pile of mangled metal intertwined with thorny branches and a monstrous trunk of tree.
I ran to the swing and tried to climb on but I could feel my father’s arms around me, pulling me back. “It is too dangerous honey.” I pushed at his arms until he let go of me and I ran to my grandparents’ car, opened the back door and climbed in. I buried my face in the seat of the car and began to cry. In a fit of five-year old rage I cried out in shrieks, and somehow, my parents and grandparents must have known that the very best thing to do was to leave me alone with my heartbreak. For I truly believed, as children often do, that if only we would have been home, my dad, who could do anything, would have been able to run outside and catch the tree before it split my swing set into pieces. As a five year old I couldn’t have known that it was God’s will that took us away from our home that night and saved our lives, and not Lorie’s fault for being sick that broke my swing and my five year old heart.