A Summer Walk

Why should something be forbidden? The answer might logically be that the forbidden object is dangerous or harmful. The danger however, is not always apparent until it is too late. So it was when I was five years old; my family lived in the country and on nice days my mother and I, along with our dog, would go walking down a dusty road through fields of green and gold that bent in submission to the breeze. The air itself seemed alive as the dust kicked up from our feet was caught like a prisoner by the sunlight and held suspended in it’s warm embrace. Wild flowers as tall as my shoulders were hummed over by diligent bees while butterflies, veiled in blue and white, danced a dance to music only they could hear. This magical walk would end in sight of a sparkling pond where the only disturbances were from an occasional jumping fish or darting dragonflies defending their invisible territories. My mother would spread our blanket on the ground and open our lunch. Lying near by was our dog, waiting patiently for whatever might come his way.

The air was rich with the sweet abundance of ripe berries hanging like purple and red jewels from their vines and the green scent of the grass and trees. Who would ever imagine there could be any danger in so wonderful a place? I would make the discovery on a summer day filled with the grownup business of laundry, mopping, and cleaning. This day was too full of things to do for my mother to go on a walk. Dejectedly I left our house with the dog following me to the farm next to us. The farmers cow had a new calf and this seemed like a good day to go see it. Leaning over the rail of the stall I peered into the dull light where mother and baby lay as the farmer worked nearby. Not far away was the dirt road that led to the pond. I knew the way. My mother had forbidden me to go there alone; however, since the dog was with me I was not really alone. He was after all my protector; I had seen him chase away attacking bees and cars that dared to drive down our road.

We said good bye to the farmer and the cows and began our walk into an adventure we did not bargain for. The day was much like other summer days when we walked to the pond and I felt very grown up without my mother there. My dog and I meandered along while I brushed the tops of wildflowers with my hand, startling unsuspecting bees as we went. The pond lay just ahead and the dog and I planned on getting our feet wet in the water which was something mother never let us do - in fact, we were never allowed to go near the pond.

A roaring from behind me shook me from my thoughts, and turning I saw the farmer’s jeep flying towards me. Inside were the farmer and his wife. My eyes, however, were not on them but frozen in shock at the sight of my mother sitting like an avenging angel hood ornament on the front of the jeep, brandishing a ten foot long willow branch like a rawhide whip and shrieking for me to stop where I was, then something about quicksand, and I could have been killed. The jeep came to a stop and she pointed me in the direction of home and said “GO!” I ran as fast as my five year old legs would carry me, choking on the dust cloud left by my dog as he deserted me. Bearing down on me was the farmer’s jeep with my mother still on the hood, cracking her willow whip against the back of my legs while the farmer, crouched over his steering wheel looking like a deranged Cruella De Ville.

I burst through my back door stopping to lock both locks before hiding under the table where I stayed until my mother had calmed down enough to be reasonable. From my five year old perspective, the world was a safe place full of wonders. From my mother’s vantage point could be seen the hidden dangers I was not yet able to understand, and she dictated accordingly. All the magic of my walk that day was shattered into pieces as my mother later explained to me how the quicksand could have swallowed me without a trace or that I could have fallen into the pond and drowned since I did not know how to swim. I couldn’t even use the excuse that the dog would keep me safe since he was the first one to run for cover that day. As I sat listening to my mother I could picture him sitting on the edge of the pond, his tail waving a final good bye, watching as I drowned. Poor dog; he just didn’t understand how dangerous life can be.