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.
