Practicing the Laughing Stuff

Horror to a ten year old.
Stop Laughing, It Wasn’t Either Funny!

As a young girl, my family lived next to a river that flowed through the valley. My brothers and I spent our summer days swimming, or building sand castles. We hiked for miles up and down the levee, having the freedom to do as we chose, most of the time.

We loved the life, and I lived in my swim suit. I would pull a pair of jeans or shorts up over it, if I had to, but I wore it almost constantly, always ready for a quick swim. I had to be ready, because if my brothers decided to go to the water, they wouldn’t hang around waiting for me to change clothes.
We lived so far off the main road traffic was rare, although occasionally, fishermen would drive by on their way to find the perfect fishing hole.

One day, I was playing with a ball out in the dirt lane, close to the canal that ran off the river. I was throwing it up and catching it, bouncing it, and not paying any attention at all to my surroundings.
My ball of course, bounced into the canal, and began to float away. I wasn’t too concerned, because I knew I could retrieve it. Quickly, I stripped my shorts off, preparing to jump into the water. Standing in shock, I looked down at my under pants, wondering where my swim suit was, at the same instant a car drove around that last curve, about fifteen feet from my flaming red ten-year-old face.

I didn’t know what to do, so I hid behind the closest object available, a telephone pole. As the car slowly passed me, I circled, inch by inch, around the pole, keeping it between me and those laughing faces I knew were inside the car.

I know now, the only thing I hid, was my sight of them. I don’t know why I didn’t just jump into the water, except we didn’t swim in our clothes. After peeking around the pole to make sure the car was gone, I rescued the ball, and ran into the house to find my swim suit.






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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **