nostalgia – The Writing Life of Kimberly Nash

I was staring out the open window of my 2^nd grade classroom at the Annunciation Catholic school. A lilac-scented breeze stole into the classroom as I was thinking of my Mother,after-school snacks and my favorite TV show. Soon the bell would ring, and I’d be free.

Sister Regina Marie was handing back English tests. When my name was called, I walked eagerly up to the desk. English was my favorite subject. I smiled when I saw my grade – 100 percent! Daddy would be proud.

“I do not believe you got 100% on this test without cheating.” Sister held her red grease pen aloft. Horrified, I watched her slash “F” over the test grade.

My cheeks burned. I would die before I would ever cheat on anything. Desperate, I tried to erase it. But it smeared the grease pen “F” into a huge blob on the paper. Sister saw what I was doing and called me back up. She rewrote the “F” with a flourish and said, “Bring this back tomorrow with your parents’ signature.”

On the walk home, fear roiled my stomach, and something else – a helpless fury that screamed why? I didn’t do anything wrong. Sister says God sees everything. I looked skyward and wondered why He let this happen.

At home, I handed the paper over to my father.

“Sister says sign this. I have to bring it back tomorrow.”

He stared at the paper. I wondered; would I be spanked for this?

“You know the answers to these questions.” His piercing eyes held my tearful ones. “Did you cheat?”

“No!”

“I believe you.”

It was Dad who returned the test paper to Sister, in person, and unsigned. That was the last I heard of it. Maybe God was watching out for me, after all, when He blessed me with such a kind and loving father.

“Ma, I’m BORED!” How many times did I say that as a kid? Haunting my mother like a vulture, around the kitchen table on a muggy summer morning, while she sipped coffee from a green Fire King mug, penciling on her crossword, trying to find some peace. Without looking up, she’d say “I’ll give you something to do…” And I’d disappear out the door, bing, bing, bing, like Ricochet Rabbit, past the dog, dozing in the shade, past the back yard, through the tall grass, under the barbed wire fence and down the cow path before you could say “Lickety split!” (Do not ask me where that came from just now, the voices that speak to me from those days in ancient history must be heeded.) I most surely wound up catching minnows in the cool waters of the creek to put in Tupperware containers on the back step (Mom wouldn’t let us bring them in the house) And, sadly, it took me a couple of times to realize they couldn’t live in a bowl, simply for my entertainment. They were to be enjoyed alive and well, flashing, silver in the creek, darting back and forth, as minnows and children are meant to do.

Remember when the late spring/early days of summer, so anticipated, finally arrived? Freedom, sunshine, deep greens everywhere! Bird song in the morning, and crickets heard through the screens at nightfall as you lay awake in bed, thrashing at the sheets and the injustice of a too-early bedtime. Asking for one more drink of water, crying out “I can’t sleep!”in the hopes an adult would take mercy on you and set you free from the stifling bedroom in which you were trapped. Only to hear “Don’t make me come up the stairs!” Ah, those were the days. When the adults were downstairs, in charge, and you were not, but you could fall asleep knowing there were sentinels between you and the creatures of the night.

Fast forward almost 50 years. (How did THAT happen?) It’s a lazy Sunday, the day is full of possibilities, and I have all the freedom that being an adult on a beautiful late Spring day entails. I am in charge of myself, and the day stretches ahead. I’ve done the cup of coffee on the deck, observed a Flicker sitting in the grass, his bright eye turned up to the sky. I marveled at my knockout roses with their pink and red petals glistening with morning dew. I watched neon-yellow goldfinches perched on slender tall grasses, swinging back and forth with the breeze. I served the horse and donkey their morning grain, kissed their velvet noses, and inhaled the barn perfume, blend of hay, manure and leather. There are still hours of this beautiful day left to enjoy. And yet…

“Ma, I’m bored.”

“I can give you something to do…perhaps wash the dishes? Throw in a load of laundry? The bird cage is looking pretty grim…”

Just like old times, only I am the boss of me and the conversation is all in my head. If you will excuse me, the fields, woods and streams are calling my name!

Category: nostalgia

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