Curious Habit


I admittedly have a little quirk that has been with me since my teenage years, and at the tender age of seventeen my father decided he wanted to break the habit. How do you make your children strong, then develop the urge to break that will.  I’m laughing still.  What is this oddity you ask?  It’s simply called curiosity.  Bring a bag of any sort into my presence, brown, or otherwise and I can’t seem to repress the urge to find out its contents.  Now, I had no idea the man had conspired with my mother, and that she had gone along with the crazy scheme.  In any event, I am now many years away from a teenager, but the pesky tendency continues to rear its head.  On this particular day, however, he came in from work with a couple of brown grocery bags – unpretentious enough.  He proceeded to place them on the dining room table then, he walked to the kitchen to greet my mother.  The misplaced packages should have provided a clue, but they didn’t.

So, here you have this inquisitive young person, prancing and dancing around the table, taking her time in checking out these problematical parcels.  As I’ve thought about this through the years, I can remember the odd presence on my father’s face.  You see, I didn’t recognize it at the time, but he underhandedly watched as I ritualized the process of peeking in the bags.  Now, I didn’t take the time to peer in the package on this specific day.  No, I effortlessly eased my hand into the first one sitting at the edge.  Still not gazing in, I moved my hand around the inside of the bag.  Doing that, alerted my senses to something strange in makeup.  So peculiar, I immediately turned my face to the top; drawing my hand out, and hovering my head over, there it sat – gazing back at me.  Could I be dreaming? This could not possibly be real.  But, it stared back at me; curled in the bottom, with it’s head waving from side to side. I certainly knew it would strike for sure. There, right in my immediate vision, a black snake with some weird stripes on its head.

Now, do you think I hung around to ask questions, or even clearly understand what had happened?  Absolutely not. The shocked teen’s hands went toward the ceiling, mouth blasted open, and she bolted away from that table. She ran out of the dining room, through the living room, out the front door, and banged through it never stopping to use the handle.  From there, she leaped from the porch onto the sidewalk, and headed out as fast as possible; not even with a destination in mind, only needing to get out of the presence of the threat.  My block had the length of two long city streets.  When the crazy man caught up to me, I had made it half way to the Avenue.  The rubber snake in the bag may have sent me, the teenager, leaping like a frightened, but curious feline – however, break the habit – never.

Also, as I have asked in each of my posts lately, if you’re here, please take a minute to go to the top of this page and click “like” on my Facebook Fan Page. Thanks in advance.

Photo courtesy of iStockPhoto

4 thoughts on “Curious Habit

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s