When I was in 4th grade I was outside riding my bike with my sister Sarah, my friend Shara and some other street rats. It was a boring Saturday afternoon and we'd already gone around the neighborhood a few times. Our neighborhood was one of those cookie cutter suburban neighborhoods where there were a few model homes and then all the houses in the neighborhood were adaptations of those few models. The neighborhood was still new, it was called Fountain Glen, and I'd been inside some of the model homes with my mom and loved how fancy they all looked with fake food and furniture.
So like I was saying, we had been riding around for a while and boredom was starting to kick in. Somehow we found ourselves on the front lawn of one of the model homes. We chatted a bit in the front yard and thought about how cool it'd be to go play inside. Luckily, someone found an open window on the side of the house. I remember that Shara went first and I was scared to DEATH!! I knew I was NOT supposed to go inside that house. But Shara was fun so I went in after her. We shimmied in the window and onto the floor of the dining room. Shara took off upstairs while I looked around the main floor. I don't think we were in the house for very long when a red truck pulled into the drive way. We freaked out! As fast as we could, we reverse-shimmied back out the window. We slowly walked toward the front of the house (which was stupid-we should have just stayed in the back, I remember thinking that) but the man in the truck had seen us. He came over to greet us not-so-warmly. There we were, straggly haired, probably dressed in hand-me-downs with suspicious scowls on our faces. He pulled out a Polaroid camera and TOOK OUR PICTURE!!! I remember him asking where our parents were (we were smart enough to lie) and then he told us that if anything was missing in the house we'd be in trouble with the police. I think I burst into tears as soon as I was back on my bike. My sister Sarah, two years younger, handled it a lot cooler than I did. Both she and Shara were telling me not to worry about it; that nothing was going to happen. I went straight home, put back on my roller skates and played in the garage where I belonged.
(I still know exactly which house was...it's still there, but not a model...this is like 1987-88ish. This is a very dark spot on my childhood history. But it's to be expected. You already know what kind of role models I sought after (see blog below)).
5 comments:
That is an awesome story...must have been scary at the time, though! I got into stuff like that often. Remind me to tell you stories. I love your blog, Linda!
I remember on the first half of that story. I totalyl remember going in and being really scared because someone was coming. I don't remember the picture at all! I'm really losing my memory... like Chris. Do you know he says he doesn't even remember any of his elementary school or middle school teachers??
when the music from your playlist started to play, jane started dancing. she likes your music.
I bet that picture is floating around somewhere...hmmm. I love this story, especially the "shimmied" part.
That is a great story. I bet it feels nice to have that off your chest and into the holy confession stand of the cyber-world.4 crosses and 7 hail marys and you are forgiven my child.
loved this one!
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