Day 77: Holding On

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If I was to turn back the pages of my life, to the first calm months at my stepfather’s house, my days would appear wonderfully simple and sweet, and in truth they were.  It was a time when a gentle thread of calm and security weaved through my days.  A brief moment I fondly remember and continually reflect back upon, perhaps in an attempt to regain some semblance of normalcy or to remind myself there was some good.

There weren’t any worries about money.  My stepfather Drake was an attorney and helped the city officials acquire land for approved projects, which sometimes meant property owners had to give up their homes.  It was rumored much later, when I was an adult, that Drake’s firm was actually responsible for my great-grandmother having to abandon her house in Monterey, California for demolition, to make way for a multi-level parking garage for tourists…

The rest of this story is in the book Everyday Aspergers

 

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21 thoughts on “Day 77: Holding On

    1. Thank goodness! She was my sitter. I don’t remember my kindergarten teacher. I blocked out her memory when she died. That’s so cool that you teach the little people. I taught pre-K, first, fifth, and seventh. 7th grade is a lot like kindergarten. : ) Sam

  1. I love that song, Sam! And your story, of course! 🙂 I felt a connection…at the end…I can picture you and your Mom holding on to each other 🙂 I have vivid recollections of my preschool days too…sometimes in the silent hours of the night when I couldn’t go to sleep, I would lay in bed and let my mind wander back in time…never had a formal kindergarten education per se…my parents let me tag along with Patrick, my older brother, to school. I was 5 1/2 – 6 years old that time when Patrick was in 1st grade — he was 7. I loved school, a “tagalong” and I was the youngest in class at that time when this happened. There were only a few kids in class ranging from me (the “tagalong” pupil) to grade 4. Since it was a church school, everybody knew each other as our parents, including our teacher (who was also my Dad’s cousin), were members of the same church. Our teacher gave me assignments and also tested me in class like a regular pupil. I was given books to read and I loved all the school activities…I loved drawing and reading a lot. One day, there was an arithmetic excercise for the 3rd grader (there was only 1 girl in 3rd grade that time and I’m gonna call her Jane). It was adding multiple numbers on the board and the teacher had asked Jane to solve it. All her answers were wrong and no matter how the teacher had explained and given examples on adding all those numbers, Jane was not catching on. Next thing the teacher did was ask me — the tagalong — to solve the arithmetic exercise on the board. I did solve it and all my answers were correct. Teacher was so proud of me…I guess she herself did not expect that I can solve it. Out of frustration, perhaps, she called me to show Jane that a “tagalong” can solve that arithmetic problem so why can’t she? Anyway, I thought I’d share this with you…I was so proud of myself that day…poor Jane…it must have been the most awful day of her school life…all the kids in class witnessed that. 🙂
    Back to you, Sam…i feel sorry about your kindergarten experience…that Mrs. Stockman was mean…I would feel the same way you did if I were in your shoes 😦 ((((huggss))))

  2. Spoke about you in tomorrow’s post, Sam. The reference is loving and about your posts. I love reading your stories. They may be sad, but they hit a special spot in my heart.
    Scott

  3. Another beautiful short story. Your writing is vivid. I am instantly swept away. You have a natural talent as a writer, but I can also detect the polish you apply. Thank you for sharing, Sam!

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