THE ROCK

Hot!  Just so hot!  Scratches burning where branches had tried to keep her out and had pulled at her skin.   Dirt clinging to her face,  clinging to the sweat running down her face and neck.  All of this registered in her mind but meant nothing!   The fear was  so much greater than the pain and dirt.   No thought for spiders and snakes...she never could have dived under here except that fear had driven her without any other thought!

Now she crouched almost panting,  her breath almost gone,  fear of detection over rode all other thoughts!   She could hear him coming,  big strides,  angry strides,  now on the porch steps,  banging fists on the door!  She is hardly breathing,  tears so close,  what will happen?  Intense trepidation!

~~~~

The day had been so hot,  so close,  no breeze,  sweat and heat!   She had been sitting under the big sweet cherry tree,  the best shade in the yard.  No one was around,  nothing to do!  She hated these times knowing soon a hoe would be handed to her and she would be caught in the garden until some specified number of rows had been hoed weed free.   The garden fed them all summer but it was endless work.  

Walking aimlessly toward the mailbox,  just something to do,  the mail was not due yet,  picking up stones and hurling them at the group of mailboxes,  enjoying the loud “twang” as they hit,  it did make her smile.  A large sand or gravel truck flew by going way too fast for a street where kids regularly rode bikes....it was always the way,  if you have the muscle or power you flaunt it....like bullies driving fast and spewing gravel as they went.  

Stooping now to pick up another rock to pelt at the mailbox she hears another gravel truck in the distance,  this rock is a good sized one and feels good in her hand,  should sound great hitting the metal mailboxes .    She has no idea why but instead of throwing it,  she closes her hand around it,  squeezing it so tight.  Backing up the lawn now,  almost to the house,  she waits.  Closer comes the gravel truck,  closer......and she lets go the rock,  throwing it hard,  never really thinking the rock and the speeding truck will collide!

CRACK!  She hears it hit!   Air brakes!   Screeching brakes,  gravel flying!   Her only thought....HIDE!     So she dived under this huge,  very dense bush by the house.....she crouches here now breathless,  she has never been so afraid!

Pounding on the door,  angry fists!   My father comes out to the porch!  The driver is furious....my Father is calm,   The driver yells,  the driver swears,  he knows what he saw and someone from this house hit his windshield with a good size rock!  My Father says ..”There is no one at this house who would do such a thing!”  “Just be on your way” .      The driver is livid,  he is pacing and mumbling,  he cannot contain his anger!   Again my Father says...”you need to get along now,  just move along,  no one here would be so reckless!”

In frustration the driver starts back to his truck,  half way down the yard he stops again and shouts.  Quite a few swear words, followed by.  “I know what I saw”.  And a few more swear words,,,slamming his truck door,  he roars away!

Now minutes pass like hours.....I feel almost faint, the heat, the fear, the sound of the truck,  the driver gunning the engine fades into the distance.....sweat pouring off her face.....she waits not breathing!

Finally her Father says,  “Get out from under there,  get in the house,  get cleaned up and wait in your room,  we have much to discuss.”   She can’t believe how calm he sounds but she also knows he will never tolerate this behavior.   

Scratching herself more getting out than she had getting in,  she brushes off the webs and dirt,  keeps her eyes on the ground, and she goes in.....now she is even more fearful of her Father’s calm than she was of the driver's rage.   But mostly,  she knows that her Father’s  calm is disappointment in her,  deep disappointment not anger.    That hurts!   Sad, hurt, dirty, she thinks the garden would have been easy compared to this!

Now, scrubbed clean and sitting on her bed,  she waits,  and waits.  Each time she hears a noise in the hall or a door open or slam,  she squeezes her eyes shut and holds her breath.   This was terrible!   Really terrible.  She kept hearing her Father’s voice in her head,  “no one in this house would be this reckless!”   She thought a bunch about that now,  how reckless throwing a rock had been, but it was too late to take it back.    She felt worn out,  sad and very tired.

The next thing she remembers is her sister shoving her over in the bed and covering her up.   Then it was morning,  her Father was so upset he had not come to yell at her!    Going down to breakfast,  he was still sitting at the table.  Without looking at her he said,  “you have a lot to think about,  how much hurt you might have caused”.   “ I expect you to remain around the house for the next week,  I expect to see all the weeds gone from the garden,  pulling weeds is a good time to think!”    With that he left the table,  no smile,  no hug,  nothing but a sad look on his face.   

Poking with her spoon  in her cereal bowl,  all she could think was,  she wished it was a quick spanking or maybe the belt!   Kids at school talked about “getting the belt” but that had never happened in her family.   Thinking about it,  she wished the stinging hurt was her punishment instead of her quiet Father.

The morning sun felt good at first but the garden offered little shade.  Her Grandmother called her into the shade in the middle of the morning for some lemonade.   “You really got yourself in a fix this time”, she said.   “Your  Dad is used to some shenanigans from your older brother but not from you”.   Trying hard not to cry,  she picked chunks of garden soil off her bare feet,  she wanted to say she was sorry but it was her Father she needed to say that to, not her Grandmother.

Thinking as she hoed and pulled weeds, thinking as she gathered them in a basket to be dumped in the weeds at the back of the garden.  She thought of many things, thinking of her Father helping her with the knots she had to learn for Girl Scouts,  remembering how they swam at the lake and her Father letting her go with the older kids.  He trusted her!  She wondered if he would ever look at her again,  ever be happy with her again.  She worked all the harder trying to get as much done as possible before he came home from work.   

Finally most of the garden was weedless...it was never weedless but she had done a good job!   Now she went to the garden hose and ran cold water over her face ,  her neck and her arms.   It felt good,  she looked at the garden and knew that was good too,  he would be pleased.  After washing the garden soil  off her feet and legs,  she climbed up into the big cherry tree.   It was a place she spent time in almost every day of summer, sometimes for hours.

She heard the car in the driveway,  the car door slam,  she watched her Father walk to the edge of the garden,  his hands on his hips,  he stood  there a long time....so quiet,  just so quiet.   Turning he comes down through the grape arbor and stands beneath the tree.   

Speaking quietly he said,  “I hope each weed you pulled was a bit of anger that you got out of your system,  you must have been very angry to throw a rock.”   “The next time you are so angry,  I hope you will talk to me”.   I am pleased with how you worked and thought about things today”.   

With that he went into the house...she knew he would hang his jacket behind the door,  wash up,  take a beer from the fridge and wait for his supper.

As time passed, things felt almost normal,  but the smile and hugs were still missing.  She supposed it would take awhile.   She hoped it would not be too long,  she missed him,  really missed him!  She missed the genuine affection they had always shared.

~~~~

Looking back she realizes that the silent passiveness of her Father gave her time to do the thought work,  the lesson learning.  But that was truly her Father’s way,  anger usually causes hurt.  She remembers figuring that out way back then.  

She never gave him reason to be so disappointed in her again.  Well, she is sure there were moments during the years but nothing like “the rock”!  She believes now that  the lesson that remains  so vivid in her mind was a real turning point between parent and child.  She “knows” she never wanted to disappoint him again.

Just an afterthought but I can tell you that she never threw another  rock or stone....even skipping stones on the water gave her no pleasure.   Sometimes the quiet thoughtful lessons are the best to learn from.   No excuses,  no emotional words,  just time and watching someone you have hurt or disappointed, watching them get over it.   Very strong stuff!