My grandmother, the Preacher’s mother, was a very interesting woman. She was intelligent, funny, strong and independently wealthy. She worked hard for what she had and she wasn’t afraid to show it off. When I picture her back in the days when I was growing up I see a classy woman with big hair, big jewelry, big cars, and lots of big fur coats. In Alabama there is at best only one week a year when it is cold enough to actually wear a fur coat. That didn’t stop her from having a closet full of beautiful fur coats though.
When I was seven years old my grandmother bought me a rabbit fur bomber jacket for Christmas. I was so excited and proudly pranced around in it during the Christmas holidays. When it was time to go back to school I just had to wear it on my first day back. How many other seven-year-olds do you know with fur coats? I’m guessing not many. So I got on the bus that cold winter morning, all wrapped up in my pretty rabbit fur coat, and headed off to second grade.
When the bus got to the school I got out of my seat and walked up to the front of the bus. I started down the steps and as I reached the last one before stepping onto the cold muddy ground, I was pushed from behind. Down into the mud I went. After the shock wore off and I stood back up, I quickly turned around and there stood Corey. My 2nd grade arch nemesis.
Corey was a small boy in my class. He had poofy blond hair and always had a twinkle in his eye when he saw me, but he hardly ever talked to me. I was furious. I’m sure my red hair was glowing neon orange due to the sunlight and the rage in my soul at the time.
I tried to dust my coat off before heading to class, but it was covered in mud and I just knew that someone was going to have to pay for this crime. I stayed cool though. I didn’t let Corey on to the fact that I wanted to kill him right then and there. I gave him a single dirty look, but I had bigger plans for him.
I went to class and did my school work as usual. Then came recess. The teacher went out of the room and it was on. I gathered my group of minions and we cornered poor little Corey. I used him as a punching back for about thirty seconds and then we had to disperse because our lookout told us that the teacher was on her way back to the classroom. I doubt that I hit him that hard. It definitely wasn’t hard enough to make him cry or anything. However, he did steer clear of me for the rest of the school year.
I have thought about that day a few times since then and always felt a little guilty for what I did. So, Corey, if you’re out there, I’m sorry. You still owe my mom for the dry cleaning though. 😉
P.S. I’m going away for a few days. We’re going to pick up Little Bubba from the Preacher’s and mom’s house. Wish sis & I luck and pray that we don’t kill each other on the 7 hour drive there. 🙂