Where The Wild Things Are

I’m a trouble maker. I always have been. I was a tomboy growing up and longed to be like one of the boys, even cutting my hair ridiculously short. My fondest childhood memory is one that my dad still loves to remind me of and really defines me as a whole…that of a mischievous little hoodlum at heart. My memory sums up my identity as a child who loved the outdoors and loved to stir things up even more. It all started on one fateful summer evening when I was forced to prove myself as a true wild child.
The boys and I loved to rough around the neighborhood and look for forts to make or trees to climb, these trees tended to turn into people’s roofs. We would run around, sticks in hand, screaming and throwing dirt at each other. I thought it was so cool that the older boys let me play with them. Little did I know it was only conditional…I was told I had to prove myself to them. We found ourselves in an alleyway in which I was prohibited to play . The boys started throwing rocks down a hill. At the end of this hill was an apartment complex, the boys kept throwing rocks and then looked at me expectantly. Not wanting to look like the weakest link I picked up the biggest rock I could find and chucked it down the hill. Just as it skid towards the bottom it suddenly flew up, hit and shattered this man’s window. Being great friends, the boys ran off screaming to their houses as this man was threatening to call the police on us hoodlums. I was terrified AND left alone to defend my own honor. Taking one look at the irate man, I ran home crying. I remember my heart was beating so fast and I didn’t look back as I ran home. I went inside and leapt over our couch and then proceeded to try and hide under it as I screamed to my dad , “Hide me, hide me, the cops are after me!” My dad couldn’t stop laughing and needless to say those cops never did show up.
I never again went to that alleyway and thankfully I had not only not been arrested, but also proven myself as a bonafide mischievous hoodlum. This event sparked the beginning of an exciting, more free era for me, a new “super” identity if you will. I am defined by this memory as it helps me get over my fears today. Of course as I tell the story today I tend to elaborate on the severity of the issue and over exaggerate the event as a whole, but it makes for a better story the more dramatic I tell my “wild” tale.
Sarah L.; 005