Was that the wind?

I was always a very independent child, able to look out for herself. I had this sense of responsibility to myself growing up almost with no adult supervision. Don’t get me wrong, mom was kind of there but working and then tired or out for the night with friends. I was often left with babysitter’s, relatives, or my favorite, my grandparents until grandmother passed away. I have memories of me as a small child being pushed through a window as the babysitter had lost the keys and the window suddenly slamming down on my poor baby fingers slicing the tip. My mother coming in a rush after the doctor’s stitched and bandaged me up. Mad, she was.

The babysitters were not very reliable and often mean to a little 4-5 year old. I had one even pull a knife and had me cornered. My heart thumping and thinking my little life was over, very frightened and scared and wanting mom. I got out of that with my humor and likability. Cuteness has its ways. After that I was always trying to be ahead of what the other person might attempt to do with me and I wasn’t about to let that happen. Even at that young age. So I think on this and know that is when the intuition kicked in. When there was that tightness in my tummy, that was my warning signal. I have always had that.

Mom had divorced my real father and re-married shortly after and we then moved into a 1935 bungalow with a half dirt basement with an old stone furnace that made a whoosing sound every time it turned on. I shared a bedroom with my older cousin down there and at times the air space was comfy and at times my spidey senses were on high alert. I would scramble to my mother, practically skinning my knees on the stairs to get to her, to tell her that something was staring at me or I would feel a cool breeze rush by. I was told that I was imagining all this, to stop reading my crazy books about fairies and such and get back to bed. If only I could go back and tell that little girl that it was alright, to tell what ever, spirit wise, that it should go away. This went on for many years and even when my stepfather renovated the basement and made it quite livable there was still a cold spot once in a while, always in the same place. I was never so happy in my life when I moved out on my own never to have to think of ways to avoid the basement. The memory is long and these are important times in my life that make me wonder how as a child that I relied on my own spirit to get me through those days. But it is what it is and I am who I am for it. There are many instances about nightmares, things that go bump in the night and just knowing, but I leave that for another day.