HAPPY CANADA DAY!!

and...

Episode 4

About those curtains

I had made it through the first grade. There were a number of scrapes and bruises that never really bothered me, but those broken noses left an impression. It's no wonder I never liked school. It would be a long 13 years. When I donated blood, the nurse was surprised that I would watch the needle go in my arm. She said I was lucky I didn't faint at the sight of blood. She didn't know the half of it - I would have been out through 50 of my 67 years.

It was second grade. The teacher had given us a picture to color. I'm guessing it was art class. I was working hard to stay inside the lines. Then I heard a familiar sound. What was that? It was a birthday sound. I was only seven, but I had heard it 60 or 70 times. Hah! It was the sound of one of those little match boxes being slid open and a match being scrambled out. Oh boy! My senses heightened, and I waited for the familiar scritch of the match to the side of the box. Then it happened. The little flame burst forth. I could smell the sulfur. My pulse quickened. My eyes darted down to my paper when she looked up, but they didn't stay there. I watched her closely as she lit a small candle and raised what looked like a funny shaped crayon to the flame. It dripped a couple of times. Then she blew out the candle, made some movements with her hands, and set the candle aside. At the end of class, when we took our pictures up to her desk, I scanned it thoroughly. It was stunning. The crimson wax had dripped onto an envelope, and there was a depression in it with such a fancy design. Wow. I walked home in wonder. 

We used to have a junk drawer at home, and you could find, well, pretty much anything in it. I found a candle and, yeah, matches, too. It was on the window sill in the little bedroom adjacent to the bathroom where I set up my project. I was going to make an impressive picture for my mom. I had melted a few crayons before the light in the room started flickering. No big deal - lights flickered all the time back in the day. Except I hadn't turned it on. It wasn't the light that was flickering at all - it was the flames. There were a couple of little dragon caterpillars crawling up one of the curtains. I assumed they were dragons because they were on fire. Fear is a strong motivator. I mean, I wasn't so afraid of the fire - I was more afraid mom would find out I started it. I ripped the curtains from the window, rod and all, and had them in the bathroom sink in a heartbeat. Well, my heart was beating pretty fast, so maybe in a few heartbeats. Plus I kinda bent the rod going through the doorways. The water put the fire out fast, and I quickly hung them back up...after straightening the rod. Oh boy. That wasn't going to work. The curtain on the left hung lightly down with its pristinely white delicate lace pattern.  The right side, however, although it also hung down, only consisted of a couple of threads, and they were both black. I couldn't give mom the picture I made, not just because it would be evidence, but because it wasn't finished, and I kinda lost the inspiration. I got rid of the ashes and spread the other drape across the window. It was quite worrisome because it only covered half. Maybe mom wouldn't notice - she had fourteen kids you know. She noticed. I had to own up to it. After all, at the time I still felt guilty about the one I didn't start on Retallack. I told her how It started and explained how I put it out. She checked my hands, my arms, and my little face. My new nose was almost a year old now. There was so much wax on my hands they didn't get burned at all. She put her arms around me and hugged me close. Turns out she didn't care about the curtains.