When I was a kid, my parents bought a house in
Freedom, New Hampshire, a tiny beautiful town, not far from the huge old house
and old ski lodge on the very top of a small mountain down the road, which
their group of their friends owned, and with their batches of children , went
for weekends, in the summer and winter.
Our house was on the main road,back down in town, on a street lined with other Capes, and about a three minute walk down the street, over the bridge and dam , around the corner to the Freedom General Store.
Next-door to the store lived a woman with her three daughters. There was no father there, which was more uncommon in those days. They had no backyard, which as a kid I found fascinating. Instead, all of their rooms looked far far down into the water below the dam. There was a picket fence in front, and a tiny front yard. The sisters were all so different- one redhead, one blond, and one with jet black hair. They were shy quiet and hung together, but were sometimes fun to play with. They just would never go anywhere away from their home, or in front of their fence, or their mom would call for them.
I was from a family of six, so far, and we got to run wild ,of course.
At the store one day , when I was 13, I met a quiet girl my age; shoulder length sandy brown hair. Taller than me. She was nice; I really liked her.
I had five brothers, four of them younger. I was close to them, especially best friends with my big brother. But...a new friend was a pretty exciting thing.
We walked home together, and slowed by my house. She told me her house was further down the road. This was when kids walked everywhere, and far.
I ran in and asked my mother if I could go with her, and she said sure. So we walked about another mile down the road, up a steep hill, and there was her house on the left. A large, stark house, with old plain furniture, with a barn on opposite side of the road. And best of all? Horses.
Since I was small, I had a phobia and a fascination with horses. I was scared to death of them, and always ended up climbing up on them, when I had no idea what I was doing. Possibly one of my inborn traits. Who knows.
But it was clear to me that they weren't really to be feared. That it was something inside of me. Because they were so beautiful. And just like every other remarkable creature I've ever met. So all my life I just went ahead and got up on them and rode them, bounced around, had them carry me away galloping, and so on. Never thought anything odd about doing things that way.
My new friend had a nice mother, who looked like her. Quiet also. And a nice stepfather, all of them quite reserved.
Some days I would walk over to her house and see if she wanted to go down to the lake, which lay between our houses. We would walk down this long dirt road, into the woods, past the old cemetery, which was kind of spooky, to a place on the lake where my family kept a Sailfish.
No adults around. No lifejackets. We'd push it out into the water, I'd pull up the sail, and off we'd go.
Paddling, if there was no wind. Of course the favorite thing was to get to the very middle of the lake, and then capsize the boat. I loved that. You can imagine the whole sail smashing into the lake's cold water, eventually going vertically down into the water.
Sometimes I'd capsize it by ripping along with the wind. Stay on the edge for a while, in all that excitement, and then let it go too far, and come crashing over.
Other times, I'd just have to get my feet on one side, hold onto the handles on the other, and pull pull pull my skinny little weight, if I was alone, until the thing started to tip.
And there you were. Swimming about of the lake. Only the Loons passing by now on then to see you.
My friend and I would hold onto the sides and then swim out and then hang on again. Laughing and playing chasing games; climbing up and cannonballing off. As the poor little boat shook about.
My swimming wasn't great ,but okay enough. It was so peaceful and free out there. And then the other fun part was bringing the boat back up again. You get on one side, hold onto the wooden handle on the edge of the boat, and start to pull. And it would slowly veer from all upside down to right side up, the sail valiantly flashing out into the summer air, water spraying everywhere. Huge ripples moving across the lake. It was glorious. And then we'd clamber back up onto it, and see if we could catch some wind.
My favorite one on a windy day was to go as fast as we possibly could, kind of mini America cup version. I'd be sitting in the back , steering , and the boat would be almost sideways, us screaming with excitement : sitting on the very edge of the boat, as we crossed that line between capsizing and not, racing along down the lake, no one around.
Sometimes you'd end up way on the other end of the lake, and the wind would die out. We'd each have to lie on our bellies, on either side, paddling in paddling in paddling. Every once in a while, turning on your back, staring at the sky, panting, the sail lax, fluttering far above you. I believe I knew what heaven was , then.
Last time I saw Cathy, I went to her house. They were hanging out with her horse, and she climbed up on the saddle, and told me to get something. I walked right behind the horse, and it kicked me right in the thigh, knocked me over, knocked me out.
A little while later, I came to. Yeah, she looked pretty nervous, and so did her mom. I thought nothing of it. Because in my family, it was nothing. I told them I felt okay, even though my leg hurt awfully and I had a bad headache and I was dizzy.
I walked back down the road, back home, refusing a ride. I was all nervous about how uncomfortable they seemed. Of course, I never told my parents. In my family, it was no use. There were too many kids, and there really was no interest.
I had a 6 inch long dent in my thigh, that lasted til I was 45, and my brother, an Acupressurist, showed me how to release the damaged tissue, digging into it methodically, so that meridians could function there. After that, it was gone.
Inside of me, I had a feeling my friendship was over. I wasn't certain why. When I saw Cathy at the store, she would smile and wave at me, and then look away, furtively.
Now I realize it was already a stretch, an out of towner with money coming to a vacation house, hanging out with their kid. And then, for me to get hurt at their house. That was probably enough of that.
But, oh, we had a wonderful time. And still now, whether she knows it or not, I remember her kind smile; and her laugh out on the wild water.
Our house was on the main road,back down in town, on a street lined with other Capes, and about a three minute walk down the street, over the bridge and dam , around the corner to the Freedom General Store.
Next-door to the store lived a woman with her three daughters. There was no father there, which was more uncommon in those days. They had no backyard, which as a kid I found fascinating. Instead, all of their rooms looked far far down into the water below the dam. There was a picket fence in front, and a tiny front yard. The sisters were all so different- one redhead, one blond, and one with jet black hair. They were shy quiet and hung together, but were sometimes fun to play with. They just would never go anywhere away from their home, or in front of their fence, or their mom would call for them.
I was from a family of six, so far, and we got to run wild ,of course.
At the store one day , when I was 13, I met a quiet girl my age; shoulder length sandy brown hair. Taller than me. She was nice; I really liked her.
I had five brothers, four of them younger. I was close to them, especially best friends with my big brother. But...a new friend was a pretty exciting thing.
We walked home together, and slowed by my house. She told me her house was further down the road. This was when kids walked everywhere, and far.
I ran in and asked my mother if I could go with her, and she said sure. So we walked about another mile down the road, up a steep hill, and there was her house on the left. A large, stark house, with old plain furniture, with a barn on opposite side of the road. And best of all? Horses.
Since I was small, I had a phobia and a fascination with horses. I was scared to death of them, and always ended up climbing up on them, when I had no idea what I was doing. Possibly one of my inborn traits. Who knows.
But it was clear to me that they weren't really to be feared. That it was something inside of me. Because they were so beautiful. And just like every other remarkable creature I've ever met. So all my life I just went ahead and got up on them and rode them, bounced around, had them carry me away galloping, and so on. Never thought anything odd about doing things that way.
My new friend had a nice mother, who looked like her. Quiet also. And a nice stepfather, all of them quite reserved.
Some days I would walk over to her house and see if she wanted to go down to the lake, which lay between our houses. We would walk down this long dirt road, into the woods, past the old cemetery, which was kind of spooky, to a place on the lake where my family kept a Sailfish.
No adults around. No lifejackets. We'd push it out into the water, I'd pull up the sail, and off we'd go.
Paddling, if there was no wind. Of course the favorite thing was to get to the very middle of the lake, and then capsize the boat. I loved that. You can imagine the whole sail smashing into the lake's cold water, eventually going vertically down into the water.
Sometimes I'd capsize it by ripping along with the wind. Stay on the edge for a while, in all that excitement, and then let it go too far, and come crashing over.
Other times, I'd just have to get my feet on one side, hold onto the handles on the other, and pull pull pull my skinny little weight, if I was alone, until the thing started to tip.
And there you were. Swimming about of the lake. Only the Loons passing by now on then to see you.
My friend and I would hold onto the sides and then swim out and then hang on again. Laughing and playing chasing games; climbing up and cannonballing off. As the poor little boat shook about.
My swimming wasn't great ,but okay enough. It was so peaceful and free out there. And then the other fun part was bringing the boat back up again. You get on one side, hold onto the wooden handle on the edge of the boat, and start to pull. And it would slowly veer from all upside down to right side up, the sail valiantly flashing out into the summer air, water spraying everywhere. Huge ripples moving across the lake. It was glorious. And then we'd clamber back up onto it, and see if we could catch some wind.
My favorite one on a windy day was to go as fast as we possibly could, kind of mini America cup version. I'd be sitting in the back , steering , and the boat would be almost sideways, us screaming with excitement : sitting on the very edge of the boat, as we crossed that line between capsizing and not, racing along down the lake, no one around.
Sometimes you'd end up way on the other end of the lake, and the wind would die out. We'd each have to lie on our bellies, on either side, paddling in paddling in paddling. Every once in a while, turning on your back, staring at the sky, panting, the sail lax, fluttering far above you. I believe I knew what heaven was , then.
Last time I saw Cathy, I went to her house. They were hanging out with her horse, and she climbed up on the saddle, and told me to get something. I walked right behind the horse, and it kicked me right in the thigh, knocked me over, knocked me out.
A little while later, I came to. Yeah, she looked pretty nervous, and so did her mom. I thought nothing of it. Because in my family, it was nothing. I told them I felt okay, even though my leg hurt awfully and I had a bad headache and I was dizzy.
I walked back down the road, back home, refusing a ride. I was all nervous about how uncomfortable they seemed. Of course, I never told my parents. In my family, it was no use. There were too many kids, and there really was no interest.
I had a 6 inch long dent in my thigh, that lasted til I was 45, and my brother, an Acupressurist, showed me how to release the damaged tissue, digging into it methodically, so that meridians could function there. After that, it was gone.
Inside of me, I had a feeling my friendship was over. I wasn't certain why. When I saw Cathy at the store, she would smile and wave at me, and then look away, furtively.
Now I realize it was already a stretch, an out of towner with money coming to a vacation house, hanging out with their kid. And then, for me to get hurt at their house. That was probably enough of that.
But, oh, we had a wonderful time. And still now, whether she knows it or not, I remember her kind smile; and her laugh out on the wild water.
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