It’s Saturday night, I put my nightgown with the little lavender flowers and my Pooh bear inside, close the lid and fasten the brass latch. My heart feels like it’s going to run away without me.
I grab the plastic handle on my royal blue suitcase and tiptoe to the front door. I slow
ly turn the knob. The lock releases and tries to tattle on me. No one comes.
I pull the wooden door across the lush green carpet and squeeze behind it to push open the screen door. I back outside without a breath or sound, and close both doors behind me. That was easy.
A “no,” simply “because I said so” won’t stop me. I’ll walk!
I love being with Grandma. We play games and sing songs while she rocks me on her lap, sometimes really fast. She listens to me. They’re wrong, she won’t think I’m a nuisance. She’ll be happy to see me.
As I walk down the hill, I count the houses I pass. There’s only four in between us, after all, I’m only five. Within a couple of minutes, I open the back door, and go into the living room. She and Grandpa are in their rocking chairs watching TV. “Well, what are you doing here, Brina?” she asks.
“I want to spend the night.” I go past Grandpa with extended arms to hug her and climb into her soft lap. “Do your parents know you’re here?” Again, with the parents.
I plead my case, but it doesn’t stop her from calling my dad. He’s unhappy, and coming to get me.
He pulls into the driveway and I meet him in the basement to once again explain why he should let me spend the night. But he won’t listen. He yells at me. “You can’t leave without permission, that’s naughty. I told you, “no.””
His words turned my pleading tears into unworthy sobs. I don’t want to upset him. I can’t catch my breath. This happens before I throw up. I’m going to throw up!
Suddenly, a cold splash of reality blankets my face. The shock interrupts my gag reflex. No tears. Only stunned disbelief and drenched clothes.
The solemn realization made me shiver. It doesn’t matter what I want, it’s not safe to share my feelings. The world doesn’t belong to me.