Big Sis and I were laughing the other day about the time we walked home from Sunday School and pretended I was blind and she was my guide. We pretty much narrowed this down to when I was in grade school and she was in junior high, because once she got in high school I had evolved into a mini terrorist and she refused to be seen with me. I’m not sure whose idea it was for me to be “blind,” but Mama Bore says it was such a ridiculous idea that it HAD to be mine.
Well, anyway, Sis and I collectively agreed that she would lead me through the five blocks of hazards between the First Methodist Church and our house--maneuvering curbs, cracks in the sidewalks, turns, and street crossings.
About halfway into our experiment, we met up with Miss Sybil Robison, a spinster school teacher who was also walking home. She didn’t know us, but we knew who she was because she taught at a grade school across town. Being a kid-friendly person, she struck up a conversation with us, but we were not about to stop the little “game” we had started. Sis continued to lead me while talking with Miss R., and I continued my sightless journey.
Finally, her curiosity got the better of her and Miss Robison asked Sis, “What’s wrong with the little girl?”
“Oh, she’s blind,” Sis said, matter-of-factly, not even pausing to think that God might strike her dead for fibbing so soon after leaving Sunday School.
Miss Robison was heartbroken. “The poor child,” she said.
Now, I felt a smidgeon of guilt since she expressed such sorrow for me, but who was I to say the jig was up and admit that we were just play acting? I just kept hanging on to Sis with my eyes closed, going along with the ruse. Miss Robison bade us her pitied goodbye when she got to her home, and Sis safely steered me two more blocks to our house. We were both rather triumphant that we had pulled off the stunt so well that we had fooled an adult--an educated one, too.
Looking back on it, Sis sure could have spared herself a lot of future grief by just shoving me blindly into the traffic on the state highway we had to cross after we parted ways with Miss Robison. Her perfect opportunity--missed. Damn. Sis spent many a year after that suffering from the messes I made in the bedroom we shared.
"Hang up your clothes!" " You’re such a slob!" "Mom, she's been in my scarf box again!"
If only she would have just closed her eyes…..
2 comments:
Ms. Robison was both my mother and my first grade teacher. And she retired after our class . . .for graduation everyone she had got a handmade card from her.
What a sweet lady. Now I feel even more guilty for fooling her.
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