sunday stories

Sunday Stories: Tailgate

When I was four or so, I was a bit of a mommas boy. I was a very shy. I did not talk much. My mom protected me, like all good mothers should. Keep in mind I have four older brothers, all of which were excellent ar teasing, wrestling and jeering.

I remember that one afternoon my brothers were razzing me pretty good. They were wrestling with me.  I was almost in tears. I had enough. I went to my mom, looking for comfort. She couldn’t help me because she was on her way to the store. I begged her to take me. For whatever reason she told me I had to stay home. She obviously did not know how desperate I was. Staying in the house was not going to happen. I could not live another minute. I did what any kid would do when told ‘no’, I did not listen.

I went outside, got into our LARGE red van and hid behind the backseat. I probably laid there for a minute, but it seemed like forever. My mind starting to going round and round. I was just sure that my mom would see me in the very back of the van and send me back inside . I had to move to another position or else face the tyranny of a face cross.

I got out of the van and circled to the back. The tailgate was large and plated with chrome. The back doors were split, so there was a large handle in the middle. Why I thought this was the best position for conspicuousness is beyond me. I had no plan, other than I had to go with mom. This was my out– the tailgate of a van. I crouched down, to hide; very safe and sound logic.

I do not remember leaving the house. All I can recollect is seeing the cars behind me on the highway. They seemed like they were going so fast. I looked up, as my mother put it, with my large brown eyes, filled with fear. She pulled over carefully. Ran to me and grasped me in her arms, She started to cry.

We did not drive that far. It is about a mile and half from my house to the highway and then drove about five miles on the highway. My mom later told me that I said that my arms were getting tired and I was thinking of letting go. It was a weird day she told me, there were not many cars on the road. Right before I looked up in the window, my mom got a strong feeling to look behind her.

I do not know why I got on the back of the van, or why I did not tell my mom that I REALLY wanted to go with her. She would have listened. I do not know if I would have let go of that door handle. I do not know if I would have been maimed or seriously injured. All I know is that I was saved that day by my mom. Thank goodness for her. She keeps saving me from my tired arms, ready to fall from the precarious positions I put myself in at times. I am convinced she is an angel. Thanks mom.

Leave a Reply