Memories.

Playing in my grandparents old farmhouse.

Looking outside through the window.

“Do not play at the window child. Do not touch

The stick holding the window open. Go outside”

Curiosity always ruled me.

Itchy fingers and dreamy mind wondering what could happen this time.

So closer I moved.

What is this mighty stick doing I may not touch?

Holding up the heavy window frame I realized to late

As it slammed down unapologetically on my my little hand.

Tears stinging my eyes to my surprise.

Swollen and bruised hand now but

“That’s what you get when you do not listen child. Now go outside and play.

Stay on the grass. Do not leave the yard.”

I would proceed to play barefoot and roam the boundaries I was told not to go.

Skin now pierced by prickly burs. Tears again.

“If we told you once, we told you twice. Now child why don’t you listen.”

Once more I wander places I ought not go. Family visiting outside stop to hear my cry.

Me confronted.

A large snake poised up to meet my eyes. I stood frozen.

“Don’t move a muscle!”

And they interfere with my curiosity. I am safe now in big sisters arms.

” Why don’t you listen child? There is danger and boundaries you mustn’t cross. We know better as we have lived longer.”

I did not understand their language it seems.