The opposite is the answer
she was 6 years old and sitting on the brown and orange varigated shag carpet on the top floor of her family's 1973 split-level. she was near the front windows when she suddenly looked up towards the sliding glass doors and out to the vast omaha plains beyond when she had the thought. it felt exciting like a solution to a long-old problem; a secret discovered suddenly and without warning. like something the adults don't tell you because they don't get that you don't know stuff like that. the kind of thing kids have to figure out on their own.
"if i say no every time i think yes, and yes every time i think no, then i'll always be right. that's how it works."
and then she looked back down at the shag rug that she sometimes braided, and wondered if that's the kind of thing the sky (god, whatever) does that she doesn't know or understand anything about yet. had she figured it out? is this how it works? is this the missing puzzle piece to never being wrong? she always seemed to be wrong and she hated it.
it could really work, she thought and paused, filling with anxiety at the scope of controlling her mouth that much, "i hope i can do this."
Splatter Thighs
one of the first times she ever peed on the toilet, her mom was there. when she was done, mom pointed to the splatter that had collected on her tiny little thighs. she looked down. "well, what's that? why would that happen? were you sitting straight? that doesn't happen to me." her mom left the room and she was left looking for an answer. she stared at the light brown thighs that she loved and wondered what horrible messy thing could be wrong with her body. how could there be a screw up? this really doesn't happen to mommy? no matter how much she tried, she could never pee without making splatters on her thighs. i must be crooked somewhere in there, she worried, but which part?
Yuck Touch
she could not bear to have her wet feet touch the synthetic carpet. other objects that her wet feet touched changed when the moisture was added. the brown and orange shag carpet remained exactly the same as did the moisture on her feet. this was icky to her. there was something wrong with this equation, she felt. she would not leave the bathroom until her feet were completely and utterly dry from the cotton tub mat she stood upon like an island that kept her safe from yuck touch.
Fear at Four
her eyes scanned all four corners of her bedroom right where the walls met the ceiling in her house in omaha. 1, 2, 3, 4. start again. 1, 2, 3, 4. start again. 1, 2, 3, 4. it could happen at any time. tornados often arrive with very little warning. the man down the street who sat on his roof to watch a far away tornado couldn't make it down in time and he died. the tornado picked him up and took him somewhere that no one knows. this could happen to her house, so she watched to make sure. 1, 2, 3, 4. start again. 1, 2, 3, 4. start again. 1, 2, 3, 4. start again. 1, 2, 3, 4. she would see a crack form if the tornado came, and then she could scream for her mom and baby sisters to get downstairs into the little room under the stairs. she was worried that it would take them too long to remove all the boxes stored in the little room. they would need as much time as possible, so she kept watch. 1, 2, 3, 4. start again. 1, 2, 3, 4...
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