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| The Old Days 2002, March 19 - 1:10 a.m.
It's late and I should be in bed. I can hear my mom tell me to go to bed. In my mind. She hated when I would stay up. I would read with the hall light on, the light just bright enough for me to see but dark enough to blind me in the long run. I would read Little House on the Prarie. Mom and I read that together. She didn't know I was skipping ahead without her. I kept it a secret so she would keep reading to me. I got cocky and made so-called 'predictions' about the book. I think she was on to me. She kept reading to me anyway. I would also go to the bathroom and take a book with me. Long after I had finished I would continue to sit on the toilet and read. After about 20 minutes, Mom would call out to me to go to bed. I wasn't fooling anybody. Her bedroom was right beside the bathroom. She knew if I really needed to go or not. Curses. If I was feeling really ambitious, I would sneak past her room ever so carefully and creep downstairs. I would turn the light on in the basement and either read or watch the show that was on too late for me to see. I wont pretend I never got caught. I was a bloody night owl. And then I would refuse to get up in the morning. I was a bugger. I would wait until I had ten minutes left until the bus came and I would put on my clothes, brush my teeth and give my hair a good few swipes with the hair brush, grab my bag and run like hell. I usually caught the bus. I credit this to throwing dignity to the wind and running to the bus with no shoes on my feet but in my hand, my lunch clutched in the other hand, my coat half on, half off and homework being stuffed into my bag as I go. I was good. I was too proud of my bus catching prowness that I wasn't embarrassed at coming to school nearly half dressed every morning. That's what the bus was for. The bus was also for homework. Buswork. I sat with Hos back in those days. We went to different schools. She wasn't Hos yet though. There were no nicknames. She would give me a small lecture about not leaving things to the last minute. I paid no mind. If it worked then I would continue to do it. She was normal back in those days. She was studious, thoughtful and mature. Level headed for a 10 year old. I can't help but remember those days. Perhaps because I'm exhausted but I know that I'm going to go do my dishes and then read. I'll only give myself 5 hours of sleep. I need my mom here to tell me to go to bed. But then again, maybe reading so late at night would seem glamourous again and not stupid. I wish I had the chance to have these little rebellians with my mom again. Sometimes it's the arguments I miss the most. Thank You - 2006, June 7
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