Sunlight and Shadows

 Buckle down, this will be a bit longer than usual. I know I will flash back to other memories of Santa Monica in later stories. These two stories, though, I need to share before I move on. 

Our living room in Santa Monica feels happy today. Mommy’s friend Bunny is sitting in the chair and my mommy is sitting on the couch with her feet folded up all in front. They talk and laugh. I am sitting right in front of mommy with my legs under the couch and light all around. 

One foot itches on the bottom, so I pull it out and stick it up, asking mommy to scratch it. She picks me up instead and my knee bends backward under the edge of the couch. I cry. Every time I try to walk it hurts, so I don’t walk. 

Daddy takes me to the doctor, the one with the pretty glass door that goes across the corner of the building. The doctor pokes and bends my knee. He tells daddy that there is nothing wrong and I’m probably just afraid it will hurt again if I walk. Daddy takes my hand and makes me walk to the car. My knee hurts. 

Mommy and Daddy and Sam are by the kitchen door. I’m on the floor. Sun shines around them through the back door. They are so tall above me in the bright light and they laugh at me. If I don’t stand up and walk they are going to leave me home all alone. 

I carried this as a big part of my identity most of my life. First, that my pain would not be believed, not real, just in my head. Second, that I could be easily just left behind. 

Years later my mom was telling this story about how bad she felt when she picked me up and hurt me. When I told her my version she couldn’t believe I remembered so much. She thought I was only just over a year old. I must have been closer to two because my dad only took care of appointments sometimes after my mom started working when I was 18 months.

 Then there was my first real moral dilemma. I guess some people are just born this way. 

Kim is my best friend. She lives next door to me in Santa Monica. I have known her as long as I can remember, even when we still wore diapers. Now I’m 4, but she is still 3. Somehow she always seems to get me in trouble. 

On this sunny day, we are in Kim’s front yard. Mary is there, too. She lives a few houses down and across the street, so she doesn’t get to play with us as often. But today Kim wants us to run away from home. I don’t even understand why. 

This is not a good thing to do. Mary is going with her. They call me a chicken, but I don’t want to leave the yard. “Don’t be a tattle tale!” they warn, and they go down the sidewalk holding hands. I watch them until they are out of sight around the curve. I am so scared for them. 

I can see it in my mind, around the curve is a street corner. If they cross the street a car might run over them. If they turn the corner it is up a long hill and then there are stores with strangers and more cars. 

What if they get lost? What will they eat?  When it gets dark they might get cold. Where will they sleep? I am scared for my friends, but it is wrong to be a tattle tale. I don’t know what to do. So I sit in the grass and start crying. 

Then Kim’s mommy is there and soon other parents, asking and yelling. I have to tell! Parents are going off to look for them. Mommy told me I should have stopped them or told Kim’s mommy before they left. They are found and everybody has to go home. 

I was always told to follow the rules, to be good, to stay safe. I was also told not to tattle-tale. It’s very confusing. When someone takes toys, pushes, hits, or leaves the yard it is all against the rules. It is all confusing. The emotions are all just as big.

Kim was brave and adventurous. Her parents built a high fence to keep her in, to keep her safe. It also meant we couldn’t play together as much. I thought it was because I did the wrong thing and this was the punishment. We moved to Topanga soon after and lost touch, but I never forgot.

Some people may not believe that a four year old could have a moral dilemma. I didn’t know all the words, but the conflict I felt that day stayed with me. This experience informed so much in my own parenting journey. I believe teaching reasoning is as important as teaching the rules. I didn’t always get it right, but I never regretted taking time to listen and give lots of reassuring hugs. 

Somewhere, between the time of these two stories, is when the post war suburban life began to crumble. Of course it was never talked about, and I had to piece together hints. My dad was moved to the second shift at the phone company and then was laid off. He would often fall asleep on the couch, and that is when Kim usually got me in trouble. 

Leave me here for now, swinging on the swing set that never was properly fastened down. The green house with the neat green lawn surrounded by a white fence. Soon our life would become a wilder ride. 

So buckle up and keep your hands inside the car at all times. 

Note: the first person accounts of the child I once was were first written to prompts in the memoir class at the Goeske Center. Thank you, Rose.