My mother got me a pony for my birthday one year, I think I was 7. It was a mean pony that bit me and kicked my sister in the stomach, and it left a hoof shaped print that stayed for weeks. The one I named "Cracker-Beauty-Jack". She was a mean mean pony. After the mean pony left, I got Leo, my appaloosa. I wanted to marry him. I used to roller skate underneath him, like he was some live stagnant obstacle course. I used to read my books while laying on his back. He was sweet. Even when I decided to construct my own bridal out of rope and run him. I fell off. He came back and made sure I was okay. He sniffed me and nudged me. I had the wind knocked out of me.
The only other thing I remember about being 7 was I was tall enough to ride "the big slide" at the park. You had to be 7. I waited and waited, every hour, every year inching closer to 7. I would even climb up a few steps and look up to the top. It was tall and looked scary. After all, you had to be 7 and that was OLD. Finally I turned 7. I went down the slide. It wasnt that scary at all, really. I didnt see what the fuss was about. I probably could have done it at 5 or 6.
When I was little, I broke my arm every year for 3 years straight. 3 years and 4 casts. I couldnt swim in the lake or anything. It sucked. The first time I was jumping on a stool. The second time I rode my tricycle off a porch. The third time, I crashed my bike into a ditch. Casts suck. Especially when they take them off. Your arm is little and shrunken and smells bad and sour and then all your skin peels off. Its quite disgusting really.
When I was 10, I moved to Florida. I think that was around the time Adam Walsh had gotten abducted or something. I was just excited to move to a place with sidewalks. We lived with my grandma at first. When we got here I walked around the block and was amazed by the stupid sidewalk. My grandma freaked out and burned her apples. She always was a bit dramatic. She swears too. Not so much anymore, but she could swear like a sailor. But she could turn on the southern charm too and con you into anything over a pitcher of sweet tea. Maybe that is why I hate sweet tea. Not very southern of me, I know. Grandma is a bit of an enigma. She was raised poor. Very poor. Like the last of 10 kids right smack in the middle or tail end of the depression. She read alot. when I was 10 and moved here, she would read to me out of her "Great's" book series. I think that is where I fell in love with Percy Shelley and Lord Byron and the begining of my love affair with dead greek guys. Grandma never talked to me like a kid and I always felt that she listened to me when I was small. A nice quality in a person. Plus she could cook like a fiend and clean like nobodes business. When she was in her 20's she looked like a supermodel. Seriously. For real. A freakin supermodel. The funny thing about her is her cyacism. She got married at 14 to my biological grandfather, who was a real asshole, at least according to her. Dear God, my daughter is 14...(hyperventilate) I digress. Anyway, my dad was about 3 and my grandma was holding him looking outside and a thunderstorm came in. My Bio grandpa was poking garbage into a fire outside with a golf club or metal rod or something. And WHAM, he got struck by lightening right there and died. Funny how God answers prayers sometimes. And one persons prayers, are anothers regrets or something. Like my dad, I always have felt this invisible hole in him. Like almost tangible. I know its because his father died when he was young. I can feel him trying to fill that sometimes. Even now.
I guess if you watch your husband die in front of you by lightening, it gives you a free pass in the cynasism department. Even if you think he is an asshole.
Grandma is still alive now. But I feel like the person i used to know is dead. She pretty much has lost her mind. I miss her. She is draining to be around though. But she always has been to an extent. She was very controlling when we were younger. Specifically about my sister and mines weight. I guess when you are super model thin forever, you cant stand to see someone at a healthy weight. Nothing says love like inflicting your weight issues on your offspring.
My sister was like 125 pounds and my grandmother made her go on slim fast at like 14. It was insane. Grandma reminds me of one of those shrunken apple dolls now. She doesnt have any teeth. She never eats anything but slim fast for old people. I think in some weird way, she is still trying to control her weight. Just a vibe. Just the world according to Andee. I could be wrong. But its weird.