Splits

© imagine.com

Sun had burned off an early morning fog
the rest of the day would be lenient and
help smooth the jagged edges of our restlessness.

Back then, there was never a lack of anything
to do. Each day was filled to overflowing
with an abundance of excitement.

I was a young teen tomboy.
My friend’s, my younger brothers and I
headed off to the adventure playground
to spend nearly all day there, every day.

At that time I carried a pen-knife
knew I shouldn’t but heck, I was a tomboy.

There were thick ropes dangled from trees with
huge knots tied at the ends for kids to sit
on and swing and, we played a dangerous game
called splits.

We’d sit on the rope and swing back and forth
lean forward and try to stick the knife in the ground
furthest out from the rope would win.

My brother and I got into a fight over whose
was furthest away and both went to grab for the knife
which closed on his pinky-finger, almost sliced the
top right off.

He screamed and, scared as blood poured out
I felt so bad, closed the knife and threw it
as far away into the trees that I could.

Caught up with my brother who was still screaming
blue murder and someone had put a dirty old cloth
around his finger.
All I could think of was, “I’m in big trouble now”
and the little blackmailer swore if I carried him
home, he wouldn’t tell my step-father about
my having a knife.

It was such a struggle piggy-backing a seven year old
non stop for over a mile.

I had to own up to the truth anyway or, he would
have blackmailed me the whole time.

~*~

©  Daydreamertoo     *All rights reserved

 

My brother still reminds me that he has a scar on his pinky finger even to this day. We laugh about it sometimes but, it did teach me that playing with knives can be dangerous. Never played with one again.
Shared with Three word Wednesday CCLXXV11 Fog, lenient, struggle
Poetry Jam I shouldn’t have done that
Poets United Vice Versa