inveniam viam

I was the kid who rounded everybody up and started them on something. Usually it was spaceships; ever since the moon landing, I'd been crazy about spaceships. There was a group of about six or eight of us, Navy brats, so a mixed bunch and none of us with more than a six month acquaintance with the other.

One fall Saturday when I was nine or ten, we were out playing on a neighbor's picnic table. My best frined, Alan, was splayed out, face contorted in terror, and I stood above him, arms raised high. The rest of the gang was doing a kind of writhing snake-dance around us.

A grownup came by, a Dad on his way to his car. His presence pulled me so abruptly out of the make-believe that I staggered and almost stepped on Alan's hand. The man nodded and gave me a little grin. "Playing cowboys and indians?"

"No," I said in a rush, "I'm an Incan priestess. I'm going to rip out my captive's still-beating heart and show it to my warriors." I raised my cupped fist into the air, waving it to and fro, and lifted my lips in a snarl.

The fellow's eyebrows shot up and he took a step back. He looked me over, nodded, swept his eyes around the other kids, finishing up at Alan, who beamed a smile and gave a little wave with his fingertips.

"Riiight," the man blinked and picked out one of my warriors with his eyes, "Eddie, Mom says supper in an hour."

I didn't see much of Eddie after that.



Do you have a childhood memory to share?

:)