I Didn’t Know
by Ada Grier

When I was a little girl I had a secret hideaway down beside our creek where I went to be alone with my thoughts.

The grassy edge dropped abruptly down, making a perfect place to sit and splash bare feet in the water below. Smooth stones lined the creek bottom here and poplar leaves filtered out the hot sun making it a perfect, little paradise.

The youngest by far in a huge family, I had eight older brothers and sisters. They were a handsome and gregarious bunch and with great interest I’d sit and listen to their spirited chatter about travel, entertainment and music. At such times our house fairly bustled with activity.

Always “the kid” I was too young to participate. So after the last door slammed, after their lively voices disappeared and the car engines had purred off down the road, our yard would become quiet again. My Mother would enter the house with a little smile on her face and say, “Well, we’d better get back to work here. What are you going to do now?”

It was wind-down time. So calling my four legged friend, we would meander down the hill and around the bend in our creek to my hideaway. It was out of sight and just outside of hearing distance from the house. Here, perched on the edge with my dress hiked up above my knees, I’d whistle to myself, float plums down the current and talk to our old dog. He heard my dreams and wagged his tail in agreement as I pondered all manner of plans on those summer days of my youth.

The years passed by, I left home, but I never really left my hideaway. Many times, especially before sleep, on the darkest nights I returned to that place in my mind. Picturing the gentle flow of water over the stones, helped carry away my worries so I could fall asleep.

Then one day nearly a lifetime later, I found myself making a phone call across Canada to my older brother Willie, now in his seventies. I was working on a map of our old home place. Guiding the conversation along I described places we both knew, making adjustments on the map as we talked.

With a few questions left, I verbally led him along the creek when suddenly we came to my hideaway. Here I stopped. Carefully describing this peaceful little place where the water rippled over smooth stones, I suddenly noticed he was chuckling softly.

“Oh, that place?” he continued in laughter “Everybody knew about that spot. We all played there when we were little. Didn’t you know that?”

“No.” I whispered. “I didn’t know that.”

After being alone with my thoughts for so many years, it took a minute to refocus. Finally, giggling in surprise I leaned forward and penciled in “Our Hideaway” and...let it be.

Funny, I don’t go there much anymore.