Fresh Air ~ Part 2

My first day with the McCorkles didn’t go very well.

It started with their two children.  I can’t remember their names so for the sake of this story, I will call them Nan and Peter.  Nan was a few years younger than me and Peter was a few years older.  Nan seemed too immature and wanted to play childish games while Peter wanted to play rough-house and do boy things. 

I can see the reasoning behind Mrs. McCorkle picking someone my age, someone in between the ages of her children.  She may not have wanted to favor either child, but I don’t feel I was a good fit for this family.  However, this was an obstacle I eventually overcame.  After all we were kids.

When we arrived at the house, I was taken upstairs to put my suitcase away.  I had a bedroom all to myself.  This was different for me as I always shared a room with my brother.  The room was small and contained a twin size bed and a dresser for my clothes.  There was one window just behind the bed.  I liked the room.

In the days that followed, Mrs. McCorkle had us go to our rooms to rest in the afternoons and I came to enjoy these quiet times by myself.  We could sleep or read as long as we were on the bed.  Peter would usually come and get me when it was time to get up.

That first day was overwhelming with leaving my mother, the train trip and now these new people.  Imagine how a shy little girl would feel in the midst of strangers and you might guess the emotions I was feeling.  It would take a few days for me to warm up to everyone.

That first night I had a problem getting into bed.  My legs would not go all the way down the bed, only halfway.  Something was wrong and I couldn’t figure it out.  I started to cry.  Outside in the hallway, I heard Peter laughing.  Mrs. McCorkle came in to see why I was crying.  After I explained, she told me that Peter had played a prank on me and it was all in fun.  He had short-sheeted my bed!  I didn’t even know what that was, but it wasn't funny and I didn’t like it!  Apparently, I had no sense of humor as a nine year old.

I thought Peter was mean.  I thought that he didn't like me and didn't want me there.  I felt all alone.  I wanted my Mommy!

In the final installment tomorrow, I will post some pictures my mom recently sent me from my time with the McCorkles and you'll find out the rest of the story.

~ P