Alone and waiting

I believe I have already mentioned how the sudden hush had fallen on the household and the rapid departure of feet to various areas of the house and yard signalled that my father had arrived at the front gate and in a few short paces would be inside the front door, if it had been open. It wouldn’t be, as it was usually only opened for special visits and in this case no one would not want him to think they were waiting and listening for him.

Do you ever notice how quickly, when initially a group have been involved in something together and when an explanation is required by someone of higher authority or having to face a real confrontation, you can suddenly be left standing alone, despite any mass prior involvement. Standing solitary and obvious, as a lone pine on a high hill.  I suppose unions and such have faced this issue many times, and some major leaders (and persons in any structured form of employment to be honest), when the response to a particular unsavoury incident has everyone all stirred up and involved in the matter, until the actual incident has to be explained, or worse, has to be justified. As soon as the main leader is facing forward the numbers who had formed the support, thin, like fading mist as each finds a reason why it may not be necessary for them to actually be there, in person, or to be seen to be involved.

I was definitely alone now. All the fun of the park, the joy of the kite flying, the excitement of the caught kite, the thrill of the problem solving had definitely evaporated. Washed out of my system by the rush of adrenaline and fear at the thought of the accidental death of my younger brother in the journey home and now the upcoming meeting with my father which would require an explanation of all that had transpired.

So my ears strained even harder for the sound of his tread down the side of the house past the small cactus garden, which I only mention now, as the memory of the garden is also that it was used as a form of punishment at our house (at least once that particularly remember). An awful punishment of ‘having to weed it’. You couldn’t avoid getting prickles from the cacti and then afterwards you had to sit with your hands in a dish of milk to get the prickles out. Not just drawing out the prickles but it certainly drew out the punishment. Why would anyone outside of a desert keep cacti?. To punish your children.

(continued tomorrow)