A Child's Perspective

I never have slept very well. Even as a kid, I used to roam. The house when I was really young. Outside as I got older and if it was winter, when the evil cornfield was dormant. It wasn’t easy to sneak out. I grew up in an old farmhouse. To get out of my room, I had to go through my brother’s. The steps were between his room and my parents’. They were old and creaky so I had to linger, listening to see if my mom and dad were asleep before I headed downstairs.

One night, when I was seven, I overheard a whispered conversation about money and being able to afford things. I could only hear bits and pieces so my young mind concluded I cost too much and it was my fault we were poor. I later realized that we were by no means poor, by comparison, but at the time, that’s what I came up with.

So I decided to make things easier. I remember it was winter because I’d been on my way out into the snow that was falling so it must have been January or February. For the rest of the school year, I slipped my lunch money back on my dad’s desk where he would deposit his change every evening. At the time, I believe lunch was either 35 or maybe 50 cents. Whichever, it was a lot to a seven-year-old. I also returned my allowance, 50 cents a week. I was certain that it would make all the difference in the world.

And it did. When I was eight, my parents built an addition onto the house. All because of my contribution, I’m sure. Best of all, my new room was the first one at the top of the steps so getting out unnoticed became no challenge at all.