Melee posted 5/7/2008 5:23:10 PM | 21 kudos what's this?     report abuse tagged: family, love, safety, words

LaughTillYaPuke

I am not sure how my early child hood could be so damn lonely when there were so many people in it, but it certainly was. I was the colored strip that brought tears of rage, yells of frustration and groans of boredom. Another child born into this mob was not looked forward to. I was the great wanderer, bells sewn on my cloths to make child tracking easier. Bits of food left on plates and counters to feed me when I found myself hungry. A porch light that let me know when it was time to come home, and an empty driveway to tell me when to feel lonely. But in the same breath, I am grateful for everyone's other lives, for it allowed me to pursue my own without their pasts weighing me down.

But I feel that my most potent childhood memories are of bed time. I was the child who could lay there and repeatedly knock a wall with one small heel. Over and over again until someone came in and cracked the binding of a book. To this day it is one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard. The book reader was never the same person, and I soon learned to live in fear that it would be my brother Steve. The stories of strangers sneaking into the house and spitting in the peanut butter, of masked men sticking the frozen hamburger patties on the bottom of their shoes and skating around the kitchen before sticking them back in the freezer, left me sleepless for hours.

And once he had my eyes as big as cereal bowls, he would snap the Mad Magazine shut, lean over and kiss my neck until I screamed and trot out of my room leaving the light on. This was about as soft and gentle as Stevie got, but I KNEW he loved me the most. Those kisses were his way of keeping the monsters away.

Let's not give him too much credit here, he could have cared less had I choked on a marble in my sleep, and he seriously resented having to read to me for 10 minutes every night. And while he loved me, this was one chore he could have lived without. He soon learned that stories of dead bodies rising out of the ground only thrilled me and made me beg for more, so he created what he felt was the ultimate torture. He read to me from the dictionary.

A monster was born.

His one concession to being a big brother was to let me choose which letter we would read from that evening. He would place himself at the foot of my bed wrapped in a blanket trying to look like a dead monk with a flashlight placed under his chin. I remember repeatedly choosing "M" as it was the first letter in my name.

Magnificent. My God, you didn't even NEED anyone to tell you what that meant.

Maliciousness. Ooohh, I could almost TASTE the juicy evilness of that one.

Madagascar. It conjured up pictures of ancient lands and spices.

Multifaceted. Rubies, diamond and gems, oh my!

Mongoloid. Now there was one that rolled off the tongue. And neither Steve nor I ever tired of the meaning. Details please!

Murderess. A name just for when women got angry. Good God Gory….did it get any better than that?

Multidimensional. Yep, that's what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I was the child who could get goose bumps at a perfect word. And then.....Melee. It was the best damn word I have ever heard. And to this day, I stand by that assessment. I live for using it, and in our loony toones household, numerous opportunities presented themselves daily.

My brother decided that I was either an idiot savant or a lazy genius. Same difference as far as he was concerned. If I, as a 3-4 year old, could remember these words and use them daily, I was probably able to read and just refusing to make his life easier. He gets two points for keen observation, but loses four for being a pathological liar so that no one ever believed him.

But eventually the thunderstorms would come, and if dad wasn't home, Steve would come save me from my big scary bed where the monsters scratched the box spring to be let out. And I would see my door slowly creep open and I would know it was him. Standing and then leaping off the bed into his arms. And he would let me sleep on top his chest and listen to him breath while I whispered words and all of their wonderful meanings. And I learned that while the male species were cruel and normally unaware of the wonders that surrounded them, when you needed them most, they were the safe haven in the storm.

And that cruelty, taunting and irritation is reserved for those we love the most. That we can expose those less than wonderful bits of our souls to only those that love us enough to stay with us during the dark of night. And that when you love....really love, their sins and their crimes just don't seem to matter as much. It's as if only you know the wonder that resides in them, and in the end, that is good enough, in fact more than enough to live off of.

And the day would come when the police would come for Steve. His carelessness when peddling pot catching up to his cocky nature. And they would search his car, the house my bedroom. Tears, yelling, wailing and gnashing of teeth. A house suddenly thrown into turmoil. And he would be more concerned that I was afraid. Him yelling at the police to stay out of my room, to just let me sit in his lap! And I would stand in the hallway surrounded by the madness, not concerned in the least. He was invincible to me, this would all be gone before bed time. And as they hauled him away, he bent down for a hug and I whispered one word in his ear with a grin.....Melee.

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Blogs by LaughTillYaPuke: Coming into My Own Daddy's Girl Enough Already Trees Around My Heart The Mother Tree Colors The Most Beautiful Place on Earth Mother Barn In The Beginning TESTIFY!!! She's a Real Mother Alright..... Sharp Dead Toe Nails Melee Come to Life The Game....Part III The Game....Part II The Game....Part I Portrait........Portrayal Cold Puke in Blog Land