More Memories

As far back as I can remember, I had the sensation that I was living life on the outside looking in. It were as if I was watching my own life's experiences above from which where they were happening--at the same time. Dare I say it: It was like I having had a seat next to my 'Higher Power', realizing the: privilege, awesomeness, and peace at the same time. I could say 'the sensation' has changed over the years; however, I more want to convey that it has matured. Maybe it all comes down to finding a safe place away from the sorrows and pain--then and now.
Even then, I felt guided and more protected than others; however, that awareness didn't seem to quell all the fears. The best times were in exploration. Venturing out into the woods, the neighbors yards, and the closest paved and/or unpaved street--stretching the boundries on each adventure. (Sometimes with my brother, most times on my own) One time my brother and I ventured down to the main road, some three-hundred yards around the circle driveway, and desided to play chicken with the oncoming cars. We raced back and forth as many times as we could, before the car would hit us. I lost! Going the extra lap (I thought) would make me the hero not just the winner, and besides, I felt as though I was protected beyond everyones else's mortal boundries and limitations. A car came to a screeching halt, stopping in time to just hit and cut my knee. Of course, I ran to the house screaming bloody murder--blaming the driver. In speaking with my mother, the poor guy was a bundle of humbled-nerves. I too was knocked down a peg, and realized at a very young age that such recklessness and arrogant behavior was not going to tolerated--even from the 'Watchers".
I never felt much like a child--except at Christmas. Life was serious and scary, but at the same time it was a mystery I longed to solve. At 4 years old and the oldest of 4 (15 years later to be 5), I felt such an overwhelming responsibility to watch over my siblings--even beyond that of making-up for our lacking parents. What made it more difficult was that they did not always want my help. My 2 sisters were in diapers, and one morning I remember my mother screaming at my father. I was standing at the bottom of the stairs (one with a long banister that we loved to slide down at the speed of sound), and I listened to them argue while they were in my sisters' room. My mother screamed at my father, " The babies' diapers are frozen!" Immediately I became freightened and concerned for my neglected siblings. Not long afterwards feeling anger and distain for both my parents--mostly my dad. He admitted closing their door in the middle of the night, because they were crying too much. It was the middle of winter,in 1959, and heat was purposly scarce. All I could imagine was that the 2 girls were nothing more than frozen dolls. I was never so glad to hear them cry; however, the joy and relief were short-lived.