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This is one story that I don't talk about very much, because has been buried so deep that I never remember it until two nights ago. And I'm not telling this story just to seek comfort, sympathy or a shoulder to cry on, because I'm sure that there other people who have even worst problems. Well here goes...
When I was a kid, I used to love playing in the front yard, and everytime my older brother, whose past time was running the streets and coming home after dark, used to make me go and play in the back yard. So I follow through, at least until I was certain he was long gone and return to the front yard until I was satisfied and would go in the house and play with my action figures, watch tv, read a book, or whatever turned me on. (I was 10 so don't get any ideas, smart-asses).
One day, I was in the front yard minding my own business when a man came from up to street
"Hey you," he shouted, "Come here"
I stopped in my tracks as he look around to see if anyone else was around and I make as far as the top of the stairs when he approached me.
I looked at him and he has some red stuff that was supposed to have resembled blood coming down the side of his face, but didn't look quite realistic.
He had told me he slipped and fell and wanted me to get a good wet towel so he can wipe his face off, but not to let my mother see it.
That man almost fooled me. Instead of going in to the front door which stayed locked, I went to the back. And my intuition was strong even for someone my age at the time. So I went inside an my mother was in the kitchen cooking, my father, sister, and eldest brother was in the den (family room) watching the news, I went into the hall and where my other brother, yes the one listed above, was playing Defender on the Atari game system.
"I see why you told me to stay in the backyard," I said to him.
When he asked me why I told him everything and he went and told mom and dad. So my dad when out front, where the man was sitting on the steps waiting, told him to leave or he was going to call the police.
And the thing is my fear of what might have happened didn't kick in until much much later when my mother reminded me to never talk to strangers a lesson I heard on those public service announcements and those silly afterschool specials all the time. A lesson that I thought I had figured out but had to learn again. Just think if I had gotten the towel, that man could have grabbed me, taken me out in an alley somewhere and killed me, or worse.
But I sure learned something that day, and am glad to be alive to remember it and talk about it.
Thanks for listening.
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Did you ever get molested?
Just curious.
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No, but like I said, I thank the Lord that what could have happened that day didn't. And I don't expect to see that man again. But If I do, I hope that he's a totally different person.
