I Love to Write
Capricorn in Aquarius - Part Two
When my tears were spent, I sat up on my bed, sniffling. I was still hurt over the punishment I believed to be unjust. Why couldn't I go to the party like I had been promised? I pounded my pillow a few times in frustration.Daddy rarely punished me. It was ususally Mom that -
I suddenly remembered an incident from my childhood days.
I started school in a happy frame of mind. Kindergarten was wonderful. But Daddy and Mom had been fighting bitterly over some disputed detail over my raising - I never knew what. But one weekend morning, Daddy left Mom. he packed a suitcase and took a room in the Y.M.C.A in nearby Cleveland. I think they were contemplating a divorce.
I missed my father, but I was too busy with kindergarten to think about it much. I went into the first grade - and was confronted with the meanest teacher in creation. I hated her and started playing "sick" at least once a week, sometimes two or three days. It took Mom forever to get me out of bed and to school. I progressed from this to playing hooky. Mom found out when school called, looking for me. I got a sore, red bottom every time I decided to leave school after I was sent off.
Mom talked to the teacher, whose attitude was, she didn't care if I showed up or not. She started escorting me to school, holding me by the arm, up the playground and into my classroom. "Now you STAY there!" she snapped, leaving me in my seat.
Just before recess, the teacher told me I wasn't permitted to go out. I had to stay in.In the usual chaos at recess time, I waited until her back was turned and walked out of the building.
Enough was enough. Mom called Daddy at the Y. School missed me almost instantly when I didn't come back and he better come home to set things "right" (her word).
(To Be Continued.)
When my tears were spent, I sat up on my bed, sniffling. I was still hurt over the punishment I believed to be unjust. Why couldn't I go to the party like I had been promised? I pounded my pillow a few times in frustration.Daddy rarely punished me. It was ususally Mom that -
I suddenly remembered an incident from my childhood days.
I started school in a happy frame of mind. Kindergarten was wonderful. But Daddy and Mom had been fighting bitterly over some disputed detail over my raising - I never knew what. But one weekend morning, Daddy left Mom. he packed a suitcase and took a room in the Y.M.C.A in nearby Cleveland. I think they were contemplating a divorce.
I missed my father, but I was too busy with kindergarten to think about it much. I went into the first grade - and was confronted with the meanest teacher in creation. I hated her and started playing "sick" at least once a week, sometimes two or three days. It took Mom forever to get me out of bed and to school. I progressed from this to playing hooky. Mom found out when school called, looking for me. I got a sore, red bottom every time I decided to leave school after I was sent off.
Mom talked to the teacher, whose attitude was, she didn't care if I showed up or not. She started escorting me to school, holding me by the arm, up the playground and into my classroom. "Now you STAY there!" she snapped, leaving me in my seat.
Just before recess, the teacher told me I wasn't permitted to go out. I had to stay in.In the usual chaos at recess time, I waited until her back was turned and walked out of the building.
Enough was enough. Mom called Daddy at the Y. School missed me almost instantly when I didn't come back and he better come home to set things "right" (her word).
(To Be Continued.)
61-69, F