CORNERS

I have written one sentence since the beginning of our pandemic. The sentence was about a battery-powered dinosaur rounding the corner and  making havoc in a child’s bedroom. Just a little toy. But on the floor, looking up, Teacup shivered in the approach.

I don’t know what to say. I haven’t been able to write one word and then a complete sentence for my children’s manuscript jumps into my head. Let’s just see what happens.  

I transferred to a new university for my last two years of college. My parents had moved to this college town the previous year. Their “new” old house had a basement apartment on the finished side. The basement stairs came down into the unfinished side, a concrete floored, laundry area with three basement windows and one walk out door. Home to the ancient heating and cooling system which breathed with metallic popping noises. Boxes of souvenirs, my father’s Naval trunk, and a badminton racket propped on a stud were just a few of the items filling the space.

The apartment was much larger. My mother had painted the bath preppy green.  The wall phone, with a long cord, hung next to the always open apartment door. Two love seats flanked a fireplace. One long wall held two full length closets appropriate for my college wardrobe and then some. A twin bed and nightstand were next to the wall. Three full length windows and a back door out into the yard were on the outside wall. A small, quaint kitchen was in the middle of the outside wall enclosed in a small bar with a swinging wooden gate. A gas stove and a single sink with counter tops and cabinets. My mother’s wrought iron furniture was in the middle of the kitchen, a round table with four chairs I don’t know why it wasn’t outside. But it gave me good entertaining space for my friends.  

A ping pong table was in the opposite corner of the room. There were two fun facts which no one failed to mention to me when selling the idea of home life.

Free renter beware. The window mullions in the apartment had been extensively chewed by a dog. That was a new discovery for everyone. Desperately wanting out? Why? But the best part were the letters painted on one side of the long closet wall. Again. No one noticed? Jagged and at a funny angle. At first and second look, I said, “Oh, muy dey. Muy dey.” But not. The Y’s were R’s. That changed the picture.  The wall was repainted and the word completely went away.

I have never had a brave bone in my body. “The Shining” by Stephen King was the scariest book and movie at the time. I had seen the movie. (By the way, he waved at me in an airport but that’s another story.)

I was also an Alfred Hitchcock fan like a moth drawn to a flame. Beginning with “The Birds” and ending with “Psycho.” As a young girl in 1969, the Sharon Tate Murders captured my attention. Anything I could find to read about the tragedy. And I don’t like the dark. And murder had been painted on the wall. Last but not least, I have quite an imagination.

The nightmares began almost as soon as I begin sleeping in my apartment. I had a new kitten for fortitude. He slept up near my head. I can hear the noises even today. It was a dream but I was really “awake.” I could hear the iron table being pulled across the tiled floor, the legs scraping, coming closer and closer. The long closet wall kept me from seeing into the kitchen.  

The terror of the nightmare was the unseen presence of someone moving the furniture. They were coming closer to my bed. I had a nightlight on in the bathroom but it was useless. They were just around the corner. Always just around the corner.  

I didn’t tell my parents. Everyone knew I was the fraidy cat in the family.

Sometimes it was the table moving. In my dreams, I could hear the heavy chairs being lifted up off the floor. The terror was just around the corner. The fear of the unknown getting ready to stand at the foot of my bed. My parents were sleeping on the second floor. They couldn’t hear me cry out. I would wake up confused. The kitten had run away. I moved up to a second floor bedroom at Christmas. I still had the apartment for parties but I didn’t sleep there anymore.

Corners. Usually hiding something. The screeches of those nightmares. Fighting to wake up.  The fear of the unknown. We absolutely cannot see what is just around the corner. Fear.  

*

 The new baby was home from the hospital. She had been petted and loved on by her brother. My nephew looked amazed at this new addition. After months of talking about a new baby coming to live at his house, it was another matter when the little girl was being held by his mother. But she had the softest skin as he kissed her gently. His mother reminded him of being gentle with the baby because she was still so new to this world. His father said he was already a good big brother and he would always take care of her. It was bedtime and he could see her in the morning. Mama picked her up and carried her back to the baby’s room. His Daddy took his hand and he went to his room, jumping up on the bed, waiting to read a bedtime story.

He was listening to the story when there came a terrible noise, just around the corner in the kitchen. He jumped up and flew around the corner. His Grannie was standing there. He looked around and walked back to bed.

Later, after settling the boy in his bed my brother-in-law walked in and told my mother.

“Graham said the strangest thing tonight in his prayers. He said thank you God, Grannie dropped the chicken.”

Just around the corner. Splat. A chicken falls out of the refrigerator. But in the seconds’ fearful leap, the unknown. What if?

A lot of corners these days. Thank you, God, for chickens. What a relief to have You standing in my corner.