11/4/2020 I have to search for something to be a prompt, because I surely cannot discuss my feelings this morning. Ok.
The places you have hidden.
- My dad was a good dad. Prone to fits of rage which I now understand very differently as I can tap that source myself at times. But ‘wait til your father comes home’ was actually scary for us, and I was not beaten and not abused, but most definitely terrified, and so I hid. I have a very clear memory of hiding under the piano and seeing his feet stroll by. I need to tell you this, where I was hiding was completely exposed, it was a standup piano and I was ‘hidden’ next to the piano stool, plainly visible. I think on it now, realizing that if my dad were mad, he still walked past his ‘hiding’ child more than once, and there are all sorts of ways to try to de-escalate.
- The house was small in the first place, not many places to go unless you were ready to dive into a closet and sometimes, I did. I would dig into the back of my mother’s closet, with those thin hollow sliding closet doors, fill up on the smell of her perfume and what now must be the colorway of the seventies. browns and navys and the occasional burgundy.
- My neighbor henry and I had a tree house. I think it was really his, up in his grandmother’s tree in her backyard. I was just a visitor, but still now I think its something we had together. My memory of it fades, but it stands out as a sort of glimmer for me, even though its long long gone. His rotten cousin wrecked it. The glimmer stands though. A small and faintly idyllic childhood.
- I’ve spent a lot of time hiding in books as well. The number of times I have read the Narnia books, the shoe books, the austens, the brontes, and now the dwarves, queens, fae fantasies. It is so much harder now, with all of the distraction of technology and my plain addiction to it. I can’t seem to hide as well, can’t fall as deeply in. is it a mark of my own distractibility or the power of the drug? Both? Maybe the books are …nope.. its not the books. Its never the books.
- I hide in plain sight, all the time. I’m an expert at evading notice. I’m content with my small life but my skill at being invisible can be pretty damn isolating. This pandemic is pushing me. I want to sit down with people and hear every single thing they have to say. And then I want a turn.
- When my kids have friends over, there will inevitably be a game of hide and seek. Really, still. The oldest of the games… from peek a boo to manhunt. The best hiding places are the ones in which there is some level of disguise. When a kid will unpack a full basket to repack it on top of themselves, fooling the seeker into overlooking what is ‘always there’.
- Another favorite is the simplest, just standing behind the door. There seems to be some gender thing going on, as it is the boys who do this more often. They barely hide- and in the most obvious scary movie move, they hide just around the corner, just out of sight, sometimes moving to follow the seeker. I’ve watched it done in a way that is so creepy I want to question the skillset that enables the haunting of the seeker. But its kids, and skillsets don’t need my adult interpretations. I just need to make more popcorn.
- I’m hiding in the middle of the kitchen. In the midst of the two boys home full time, I’m obsessively playing matchit games on my phone. I have a timer that won’t let me play for over two hours a day. The timer regularly goes off. I feel sick about it and recognize the self-soothing power of addiction. I am disgusted by myself. I feel that.
- I’m also hiding in the 20 extra pounds I’m carrying. There is a connection. And I see it, and I don’t know what to call it or how to flesh it out. No pun intended. But pun appreciated.
- I am clearly avoiding talking about politics. Because its devastating. What else is there to say?
and i just reread my prompt and was like WHAT? what places have i hidden? like, tucked away and removed from sight? oooooh. thats rich! maybe next time….