Memory... "Speed Walker"

When I spoke about this feature for the first time, there were a few memories that sorta rose to the surface. And as I mentioned before, they're not all perfectly clear. The most important ones are usual just swaths of emotion. As is the case with this one...

I remember being in elementary school. But I don't remember what grade exactly. If I had to guess I would say I was in 2nd or 3rd grade... well maybe even 1st. I'm not sure. But I remember leaving school and walking home with my Mom. Given that she was taking me home meant that that day we were let out of school early. Those were the very best days 'cause that meant that my Mom would take me home. Those days were few and far between, those short days, more often than not my Dad would pick me up in his truck and we'd drive home. Which was fine, but I loved walking home with my mom. She'd always take me to the donut shop across the street for some ice cream or maybe the liquour store for some candy. I loved it. And I loved that the days seemed so long since school was cut so short. There was just something about it all that struck me to the core... that stirkes me still when I recall the memories. I think back on them very fondly.

One of these days, however, I don't hold in high regard. It's funny how you forget the most important thing about some memories... sadly I'm missing something here. I remember my Mom and I getting into something on one of these days. Rather I think I got into something... I was mad for some reason, about what? I have no idea. I can't remember. But I remember the feeling of what it was about, and I know I was in the wrong. I was being bratty and difficult. I had turned a perfectly good time into a bad one; one of my favorite days into the worst. Right out of the gate. Just as soon as I got out of school. I know that 'cause I can see where it happened in my mind. It was at the nearest stoplight at the school. I started giving my Mom the silent treatment (I've never been the tantrum type). All of this so far I don't feel too bad about. I mean I do, but it's the kinda thing that just sorta happens.

What I feel so horrible about is what happened next. Along with giving my Mom the silent treatment I was also ignoring her. I wouldn't even look at her face. I had pretended to be alone. I was locked away in this bubble of anger and frustration. I crossed the streets all alone. Distancing myself further and further from her, all the while not giving her a single glance. This kept going for so long that I didn't even realize that I left her blocks behind, not noticing we weren't even on the same side of the street. I felt so bad about that. About leaving her behind. About walking so fast so that she couldn't keep up. What's worse is having felt what I did but being too proud to turn back. I was hurt about earlier and now ashamed and guilt-ridden. More than anything I just wanted to get home. And that's what I did. We both walked home. Together, but alone. It was horrible. Even more horrible when years later my Mom recounted the tale as an example of a time when I hurt her. I never meant to, but I did. And I knew then. I haven't forgotten, and at the time she hadn't either. We never fought growing up, so this is one of those things you can't really forget...

The memory serves in some way as a warning. I'm sometimes distant though I don't mean to be cold. If I allow myself to become locked into whatever it is I am at the moment I could end up hurting people I don't mean to. It's a strange balance you have to strike as an introvert. It doesn't necessarily mean you're antisocial in the strictest or clinical sense. You just want your space. But you have to know how much is too much. I never want anyone to feel like I'm pushing them away. Not the people I love anyway. So... I call this to mind lest I forget that lesson. I don't ever want to feel like that again... and if having to remember this keeps that in check, well then I hope I never forget.

DS333, open.