The Road Home

The Road Home

As a kid my parents and I didn't do much visiting around the neighborhood. I think it was because of Dads religion but I don't know for sure. Who am I kidding of course it was because of Dads religion but that's not the point anyway.




Mom and Dad had been raised in the time before everybody had a TV or even a radio for entertainment and people had to find things to entertain themselves. Cards were the entertainment of choice in both of their families and that tradition was passed on down to me. Cribbage was the game that they played the most and at the age of nine I had learned to play crib better than most adults.




Every month there was a cribbage and euchre party held at the local community hall and we would go to that a couple of times a year. I'll never forget how the older ladies would get in a huff and decide that kids shouldn't be allowed to play every time Mom and got close to winning the team prize for the night and it happened pretty much every time. I don't want to brag but we were good and we made a great team. I think that's why we didn't go too often. Just often enough to be considered a part of the community.




Once or twice a year we would be invited to a neighbors for supper or an evening visit but again I think people were hesitant to invite us because of Dads religion. It wasn't that they didn't like Dad or Mom. It was that they were afraid that Dad would start preaching. After all he did spend every Sunday morning knocking on peoples doors with his bible in hand. Again I think the invitations were so we would feel like a part of the community even though we really weren't.




One of those nights when I was about twelve years old, we were all invited to the neighbors just around the corner for supper, a slide-show and some cards. Mom and Dad insisted that I go along even though there were only girls in that family and they were all much younger than I was.




The evening went well enough with a great roast beef supper and a slide show of a trip they had recently taken to some exotic destination. These folks obviously weren't farmers. They had purchased a lot off the farm next door to ours and built a house so they could raise their girls in the country. Now everyone sat down to play cards but I was the odd man out. It's impossible to play crib with five and so I was told to go play with the girls until my folks were ready to go home.




Ok. I like girls but these were little girls and I was almost a teenager. I was so bored. It would have been more fun watching paint dry. I asked Mom if I could walk home. She said no. A few minutes later I asked Dad if I could walk home. He said no. A few minutes later I told everyone that I would really like to walk home. Dad and Mom both said NO! It went on like that for about half an hour till Dad finally said, "Boy. Why don't you shut up and walk home?"




"Are you sure it's ok with you Dad?"




"GO!"




I went. It was about half a mile from their door to ours and we were out in the country. It was dark. In the country there aren't any street lights so if the moon isn't out it's really dark and I have never been, and am still not, too fond of the dark. To say I'm afraid of the dark would be an exaggeration but I do get nervous in the dark sometimes. That night there was no moon and no stars and it was really dark.




I set out for home and the lights from the house were lighting up the way just enough to comfort me but the further I went the darker it got. By the time I was a couple of hundred yards down the road I was in pitch darkness. I had just made a big fuss about wanting to walk home so even though I wanted with every fibre of my being to turn back and Go to the light I had to keep going or look like an idiot. I didn't realize that I already looked like an idiot because of all the bugging to go home I had done so I plodded on into mortal danger.




Each step seemed to take me deeper into the dark night. I could see the outside light shining in the yard at home but it was a long way off and around a corner. That half mile was the longest walk of my life. Every few steps I would stop and listen. The rustling of the grass in the ditch or the leaves on the corn in the field nearby sounded like wild animals stalking me as I walked. Visions of foxes, wolves, bats and any number of other vicious creatures filled my head but still I trudged on.




By the time I got to the corner I was terrified. I had convinced myself that there was indeed a rabid fox stalking me. It was following my every movement just waiting for its chance to pounce. It must have had a quarter mile or better to pounce and hadn't but I was still convinced that it was there and that it was after me. Still I kept going.




Now I was at the bottom of the hill that lead from the corner up to our driveway. That was more than halfway home. I stood still on the side of the road just hoping that a car would come by. I was sure that the noise and lights would scare the fox away but no cars came. I was almost in tears. I was afraid to go on and I if I hadn't been afraid to go back I couldn't because I would look foolish if showed up talking about foxes and wolves.




Then It happened. I heard a noise in the ditch and it wasn't grass or corn leaves rustling. There was something in there and it was coming my way. It had to be the rabid fox that my active imagination had created for me. I ran. I tripped. I fell and it was on me. A ravenous, vicious mass of teeth and claws on my back and then at my face . . . licking my cheek and purring like a locomotive. It was our old house cat, Penny. She must have seen me coming up the hill and come to meet me. Penny was always hungry for a little affection and tonight was no exception. I have seldom been so glad to see any creature as I was to see that cat. I picked her up and with a cat for moral support I walked the rest of the way home.




Dad and Mom came home an hour or so later and never knew what went on that night on the road home. I certainly never would have told them.