Today I am in a narrative mood. But, let me preface the following narrative with some prelude. Lately I’ve read a post of a friend of mine on a social net in which she was reminiscing an event in her days of yore. The question she asked her followers was about whether anyone remembered something from the past they wished to forget.
So here I am with a yarn about a very-long-ago incident happened when I was a little girl.
I was 5 years shy of age when in 1963 my mum and I spent time in a summer house that my dad would rent every summertime in a village of Moscow province. A summer season was highly pleasurable. However, I’d like to mention an extremely awkward scene which was engraved in my memory from that time onwards.
I want to underscore the fact that it was an after-rain day, memorised visually by many puddles on the paths and ground roads. My mum took me with her to do the shopping in town in order to hoard some food for the following week. We went down the sidewalk along the line of lovely, small, detached houses hidden behind the front gardens. Those wooden houses in the 60s were literally drowning in the greenery of thick berry and rose bushes, giving off a vibe of an old film.
I must add that the walkway’s depressions were filled with rainwater here and there. So, my mum was holding me by hand while I was trudging behind. Suddenly my mum stopped at a large, deep puddle . She’d said that she would have driven me on her back across the puddle. Here the story starts!
In fact, I couldn’t imagine myself riding on my mum’s back for two meaningful reasons. The first thing I was afraid of heights. Another reason was driven by embarrassment. I thought I was too old for such a ride to be spotted by someone in such a position. To top it all, I felt as if I were an enormous and heavy weighed girl, although by fact I wasn’t. I really was as little and light as an ant. Odd as though it may sound, I’d objected to my mum’s command. My outré refusal had driven her nuts because we were rolling out late for the shopping before the shop's lunch break h. (In the past all shops had lunch breaks from two to three afternoon.) So, my mum'd forced me to abide. Certainly, I was afraid that if I had perched on her back, her vertebral column would have broken under my weight. Thereby, I played up this awful climbing. “C'mon!” My Mum was losing her patience. Every moment I was on top, I made a movement back to earth pretending to be sliding unwillingly. I’d done this many a time until my mum hit the roof. She gave such an angry shout at me that it took me a second to soar and perch on the upper part of her back, with my arms around her neck. At that moment I felt dizzy out of fear of being enable to touch the ground. My mum, with me, made a few steps into the puddle when I saw a man ahead in the path, approaching us from the front. It was like a sensation from the outer space. I felt not my usual self, horrified I should be seen from behind my mum’s shoulder. Or worse! It could cause a horror image of a two-headed woman, conjured up in the encounter’s mind. So, I slithered down my mum’s back once she made a move up to help me along to stay as I ought to. But it worsened the thing, she slipped when moving her feet on the bottom of the puddle, letting me splash into the dirty water. I splashed terribly, watching drops of ditchwater spray above and around over my mum’s beautiful dress.
The memory about how we got home were vague. What I remember is Mum's bringing buckets of water from the well. In those years there was neither central heating nor central water in countryside houses We didn’t have central gasoline either, but a kerosene stove to cook. So, it sounds like I had put mum in trouble after all. She had to heat the water in a bucket on that slow heating kerosene and wash me from head to toe in the grey aluminium tube, which caused one more feeling of embarrassment in me.
The End
Now it's my turn to ask you. Do you remember something from the past you wish to forget?
Leave your notes in comments, below.
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