Saturday, June 22, 2013

Lynn's Comments: After receiving a pretty rough scolding, I decided I was never going home. I was going to stay in the backyard and suffer. My dad put up a tent for me and brought me some hot soup in a thermos. It was autumn and I was about 7 years old. I didn't want his help, but I accepted a sleeping bag and an air mattress, and prepared to spend the rest of my life separated from those, who in my opinion, had treated me mean. Night fell. Dad brought me a book and a flashlight, and as I watched him go inside I felt, well... vulnerable. I tried to sleep, but the wind and sounds of the neighbourhood kept me awake. When it started to rain, I wished I had not been so definite in my decision. The tent wasn't waterproof and it definitely wasn't warm. I decided to sneak into the house, sleep in my bed until early next morning and then sneak outside again. Fortunately, Dad had left the door unlocked.

Next morning my bed was too comfortable to leave, so I slept in. Dad brought in the tent. Mom hung up the sleeping bag to dry and washed the thermos...and nobody said a word. Sometimes, you don't have to say anything to get a point across.

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Originally Run: 1984-06-23
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