The Shoulder
It appears, fellow readers and writers, that I have done a mighty fine job of cleaning my house. In fact, such a good job that I have hyper-extended my left shoulder. I do need to practice mindful awareness of physical activities and not just emotional ones.
But I could not help myself. My thoughts drifted like gentle waves to another time and place. My mind raced to Jamestown, RI. I spent my 3rd and 4th grade years on that little New England island. It is nowhere near as rural and out of place as it was when I was a mere slip of a girl.
My love for the ocean swelled during those years. My parents were separated and I was having problems adopting to the local culture in school. I don't know what it is about people from Rhode Island, they seem to have a very different view of looking at the world. I was happy that my parents were not together. They were not good for each other. Yet, my life was upside down with mom working 2nd shift and as hard as she could to make sure we had food on the table, a roof over our heads, and heat to last through winter.
It was also the year a came to know my future stepdad and I loved how much in love they were with each other. A very refreshing view as opposed to the life with my biological father. It is now my stepdad's 60th birthday but he is not my stepdad to me. He is Dad. He picked up where my biological father could not and treated me as one of his own. Even my half brother and half sisters forget that I am only "half." To them, I am whole, one of them, despite the difference in last name, I will always be a Talin. As I am also Mandi to my family and my closest of friends. You must ask my permission to call me Mandi, as it is only reserved for those who I deem worthy to allow into my inner circle and my inner world.
It is this time frame that I drew upon the strength of the surrounding waters, being an island unto myself. I lived on the side of Jamestown closest to the Jamestown Bridge. The street right before the bridge on the map is Beach St., only three blocks from the Narragansett Bay. I hope Jamestown is still littered with arrowheads left behind by the Narragansett Natives that had lived there before.
I would traverse the densely laden woods on the weekends, ride without brakes on my bike down the steeply sloping hills, and climb the smooth, glaciated rocks that crowded the beach. Ah, rocky coastal New England at its finest.
I can still hear the soft crashing of waves upon the shore and gaze upon Kingstown across the way. Kingstown was the land of civilization. Even though it was a short drive over the bridge, I imagined that I lived in Wild Kingdom. I was queen of the island and ruler over all the inhabitants. But I was a secret queen, an undercover queen. No one knew the powers that were bestowed upon my brow.
My calling was to inspect the shoreline for any invasions. To make sure that civilization would stay its course on the other shore. To make sure none had breached my lands and my subjects. I would climb over smooth stones and rough rocks as I surveyed my domain daily. I searched high and low for the best skipping stones, flinging them across the water as a warning to the foulness of the other shoreline.
This is where I would escape from the bullies in my school and from the tumultuous changes in my life and I could never stuff these memories away. For these were the years that developed my love for storytelling and creativity.
But I could not help myself. My thoughts drifted like gentle waves to another time and place. My mind raced to Jamestown, RI. I spent my 3rd and 4th grade years on that little New England island. It is nowhere near as rural and out of place as it was when I was a mere slip of a girl.
My love for the ocean swelled during those years. My parents were separated and I was having problems adopting to the local culture in school. I don't know what it is about people from Rhode Island, they seem to have a very different view of looking at the world. I was happy that my parents were not together. They were not good for each other. Yet, my life was upside down with mom working 2nd shift and as hard as she could to make sure we had food on the table, a roof over our heads, and heat to last through winter.
It was also the year a came to know my future stepdad and I loved how much in love they were with each other. A very refreshing view as opposed to the life with my biological father. It is now my stepdad's 60th birthday but he is not my stepdad to me. He is Dad. He picked up where my biological father could not and treated me as one of his own. Even my half brother and half sisters forget that I am only "half." To them, I am whole, one of them, despite the difference in last name, I will always be a Talin. As I am also Mandi to my family and my closest of friends. You must ask my permission to call me Mandi, as it is only reserved for those who I deem worthy to allow into my inner circle and my inner world.
It is this time frame that I drew upon the strength of the surrounding waters, being an island unto myself. I lived on the side of Jamestown closest to the Jamestown Bridge. The street right before the bridge on the map is Beach St., only three blocks from the Narragansett Bay. I hope Jamestown is still littered with arrowheads left behind by the Narragansett Natives that had lived there before.
I would traverse the densely laden woods on the weekends, ride without brakes on my bike down the steeply sloping hills, and climb the smooth, glaciated rocks that crowded the beach. Ah, rocky coastal New England at its finest.
I can still hear the soft crashing of waves upon the shore and gaze upon Kingstown across the way. Kingstown was the land of civilization. Even though it was a short drive over the bridge, I imagined that I lived in Wild Kingdom. I was queen of the island and ruler over all the inhabitants. But I was a secret queen, an undercover queen. No one knew the powers that were bestowed upon my brow.
My calling was to inspect the shoreline for any invasions. To make sure that civilization would stay its course on the other shore. To make sure none had breached my lands and my subjects. I would climb over smooth stones and rough rocks as I surveyed my domain daily. I searched high and low for the best skipping stones, flinging them across the water as a warning to the foulness of the other shoreline.
This is where I would escape from the bullies in my school and from the tumultuous changes in my life and I could never stuff these memories away. For these were the years that developed my love for storytelling and creativity.
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