Formative Memories: An Ongoing Series of Mostly True, But Potentially Embellished Greatly, Stories based in Memory

Kids are always looking for some weird form of responsibility. We all want to be grown in a hurry because it seems to be the coolest thing imaginable. Until you are grown and then you'd give anything to be a kid again. That's not the point I'm looking for, but it's odd to think about.

I was like any other kid my age in this aspect. I wanted responsibility of some sort and, man, when a parent trusted you with a task and it seemed like it might be kinda fun too? Well that was a win on almost all levels. It was a summer day and I must have been somewhere between the ages of five to seven. Somewhere in there. Summertime, when you're a kid, seems to stretch on forever and school had just let out. I had an eternity ahead of me to enjoy everything about not being in school.

Today was going to be extra fun because dad was mowing the lawn. That meant that I'd be sitting on his lap and enjoying a grand tour of our lawn straight from the pilot's chair. Another one of those things that seems awesome when you're a kid, but as an adult are significantly less cool than you remembered. Of course, dad was up to his usual tricks; he had promised me he'd "cross my palms with silver" if I picked up all the sticks in the yard so the mower blades wouldn't be dulled. To this day, I can't imagine why we don't have blades on mowers that are just tough enough to withstand it, c'mon, people. Also, I was always disappointed (and how did I not remember?) to learn that having my palms crossed with silver didn't mean I was actually getting paid, but that my dad would simply hold a quarter in his hands and, literally, draw a cross on my palms with it and then tuck the quarter back in his pocket with a smug look of satisfaction on his face.

While I was traversing the lawn and ensuring it was clear of any debris from those bastard trees I made a discovery. An exciting one for a kid my age too: some rabbit had decided to have its kids in a little hole right next to one of our trees in the yard. I didn't know where the mom had gone, but she had left the nest, or whatever it's called, full with what looked to be five or six small, white, baby rabbits. I ran to my dad almost immediately and told him what I found and this earned me another precious task of responsibility: gathering up all the baby rabbits before dad mowed so they wouldn't be hopping all over the yard when he was mowing. Dad dug through the garage and basement and found a box somewhere that seemed an appropriate size to store them in while we mowed. He put a folded up towel in the bottom and charged me with placing them all in there and making sure I captured them all.

What seemed like a few hours later, but was probably really just a single hour, I was all set. The yard was stick free and baby rabbit free. The mom rabbit was still nowhere to be found, and it was doubtful I'd be able to catch her anyway. The babies were still kinda dumb or something, because they didn't even attempt to run away (except for one or two that I caught quickly) when I reached into the small rabbit hole. Anyway, the point is the work was done and it was time to ride that lawn mower - the anticipated highlight of my dad for sure. If I was gonna be real lucky, dad might even let me steer the tractor here and there. To a kid that small, that's practically being entrusted with driving! Driving - another one of those things that seems really cool as a kid, but as an adult I'm totally over it. I just wish I had someone to drive me everywhere these days and can't wait until self-driving cars are affordable and mainstream.

The time had arrived and dad pushed the huge grey Craftsman riding lawn mower out of the garage, popped its hood, and did whatever dads do when they pop the hood before starting the mower. I've still not figured that out, but that might be because I don't have any kids of my own - or any mechanical ability to speak of. I looked over the dashboard of the thing while he was doing that. The lever that adjusted speed was most interesting with a turtle at the bottom and a rabbit at the top, and it seemed like a funny coincidence to my kid brain. Dad finished up whatever it was he was doing underneath the hood, had my hop out of the seat and got in it himself. He patted his knee as an invitation for me to join him and ride around the lawn while he cut the grass. Finally, the thing I had been waiting for all day had arrived.

It was great riding around the lawn and looking behind us to see the path the mower made in the grass. What was once an unruly looking yard was being tamed by my dad and I in a co-effort to make our neighborhood respectable looking. After a few laps around the yard and after dad had established a good looking pattern for the grass, he decided it was time for me to do some steering. The front side of our yard was done and we were now on the side with the tree where the rabbits had made their home. This thing was hard to steer - but, I guess most riding lawn mowers don't have power steering and this Craftsman certainly didn't. In hindsight, I'd be surprised if that Sears piece of shit cost $500. Seriously, here's a picture of one, I'm surprised anyone ever bought these ugly pieces of shit:

Right in the middle of my lawn mower steering bliss, I saw it out of the corner of my eye. Something white and quick to the left. It was too fast for me to discern what it truly was, but my brain quickly put things together when it was too late.

The baby rabbit that I had missed was right in line of our mower and I was steering the damn thing. "Look out, Adam!" my dad warned, but I couldn't turn the wheel that easily. I guess my dad didn't think to take over or he feared I might fall off or something, and the mower remained on its path straight for the baby. Like many of its siblings, the baby rabbit didn't even seem to want to run. He just kinda sat there placid and awaited his fate. Truly, I know the mower wasn't going that fast (10hp, come on!) but it seemed to go by too quickly to do anything. Before I knew it, the rabbit disappeared from the front of my view and I turned my head to see clumps of white fur (now dyed significantly red in parts) shoot out onto the lawn and into the clean grass.

I don't remember dad's reaction, but I do remember mine. At first, it was nothing just a brief pause in my brain saying, "That was kinda weird." Then I remember crying silently, alone later about it. I had one simple task when it came to those rabbits, and that was to get them all - and I had failed. I know now I was just a kid and kids make mistakes, but it seemed pretty heavy at the time. To this day, that day sticks with me. It' weird the things the mind hangs on to...

Emotional Vulnerability

There was a time, not that long ago, that emotional vulnerability seemed like one of the worst things in the world. It seemed to take insane amounts of alcohol for me to even be able to recognize my emotions and even more booze yet for me to let them come out. Luckily for me, I never drank all that often. But, when I did drink, I could (and would) sure put 'em down.

Then all the emotions would come boiling to the surface. Unfortunately for me, it was mostly emotions that had developed into self loathing. And a lot of that probably resulted in my inability to cope with or express my emotion. Emotion that had been built up over countless years. Way too many. Years of being teased as a fat kid, years of feeling inadequate because I never seemed to be good at anything like sports or playing musical instruments, years of failed diets, left over emotions from deaths, left over emotions from break ups, left over emotions from just the shitty stuff that seems to go on in the world. There it all was, bottled up and mostly unaddressed.

I've touched on this stuff before, I know. Sorry for repeating myself.

It exploded. It came out at a very bad time and had terrible consequences for me. There's not a lot I can do about it now, it's over and done with, but I knew I couldn't go on living life that way. I sought out a therapist and have been going religiously every two weeks. Two weeks seems like the perfect amount of time for me because each week seems just mundane enough, but when a couple weeks pass, shit happens.

You know what's crazy? I've noticed a huge change in myself. Others have noticed a change. But, nothing really has changed... and, yet, it has. I still am who I always was, but I somehow have learned that my self loathing is undeserved. I'm not as bad as I think I am and people don't seem to think so either.

I wish I would have been able to accept that earlier.

I also know it's alright to feel things. I guess that might sound stupid to some people - but I needed to learn it. It's okay to feel. This has caused some interesting side effects to me. I wasn't sure I quite believed that I had accepted this idea, until the other day. I'll get into it, but first you need a little background. To keep things somewhat anonymous, but not entirely for those that know me, I'm going to refer to my coworker as Stephanie.

Stephanie is close to my age, just a little bit younger. She's fairly recently married and one hell of a catch to any guy. She's friendly, funny, drop dead gorgeous, and has a decent career. She's moved through the ranks at my employer pretty swiftly. Stephanie is also pregnant with her first kid. It's incredible to hear her talk about her growing baby because, I swear, I can feel her excitement. I know she's going to make one hell of an awesome mom too. You can really tell just in the way her eyes light up when she mentions every doctor appointment, talks about stuff she read in magazines, or whatever. It's a great thing and sometimes I'll bring up stuff I've read just because it's such a great feeling to see someone have such genuine excitement and joy for the future.

Stephanie has a doctor's appointment to find the gender of the baby - and starts having contractions. The doc says, "Whoa, Stephanie, this is pretty crazy. I think you better stay on bed rest and take it easy until this kid of yours is ready to make his appearance." Stephanie agrees and is no longer at work.

A few short days later, a Facebook post from her husband shows up on my Facebook newsfeed. It says that Stephanie had the baby that day, prematurely, and he (the baby) had passed away within the minute.

I read this and was absolutely devastated. Seriously, I couldn't contain the tears even if I wanted to. I could only imagine the pain and suffering that Stephanie must be going through. The guilt (even though it's not her fault by any means) she must be feeling, the complete and utter sadness and emptiness. The unfairness of the world we live in. The thought that one of the things that made someone so goddamn happy I could see it in their face, even when she was feeling ill from pregnancy stuff, was taken away from them just because.... just because... just because life is unfair seemed like the complete and utter bullshit it is. To make it worse, there's nobody that can be blamed. There's nothing anyone can do and, so, all that anyone can be left with out of this situation is sadness. I can't even begin to fathom what Stephanie must be thinking or feeling - but I have a weird feeling it's not sunshine and rainbows. For something like this to happen to someone so undeserving, destroyed me for a while. It still chokes me up when I think about what she must be feeling, what she must be thinking, and what must be running through her mind.

When I read that, and had the reaction that I did, I knew something within me had changed. Because, before that would have just been another shitty thing happening to someone and that's that. That's how I would have processed it. I would have moved on to the next tragedy because, hell, life seemed like mostly shit and if you keep expecting shit, you won't be shocked or disappointed when it happens.

That's not me anymore. I'm glad for that. But, like I said earlier, I wish it hadn't taken me so long to get here. As for Stephanie, well, she's still not at work and I don't know when she's coming back. I know it's not going to be easy for her and I don't even know what to say to her when she does come back. Just the thought of seeing her though and not seeing the smile that she usually has is making me tear up...