Stay in the Backyard

A scar is defined in the dictionary as any blemish remaining as a trace of or resulting from injury or use. But does that truly define what a scar really is? Does it define the guilt of a scar, or the shame of a scar? Does the definition of a scar really make any sense, to those who are scared? Any blemish remaining as a trace of or resulting from injury or use. As a child you play never looking up to see the ever looming hand of fate suspended above your head. But what child thinks of death? Is not youth the very definition of life? Then how is it that one so young could have been snatched by the ominous hand we failed to see, enveloping our small bubble of existence.

We had played many games that day, the day I don't remember. We laughed and ran like new born puppies, our eyes open to the world. Like most kids our age, her age I don't remember.

"Stay in the backyard."

Qayla was there--- so was she, and we all played together, that's what cousins do right? You stick together. Qayla was the leader, the Captain Sparrow of our adventures, though she was second oldest only to her, and I was the youngest at an age, I don't remember. On that day we started out watching TV, I wanted to watch power puff girls, She wanted sponge bob, and Qayla chose Dextors Laboratory, we were over ruled by Qayla of course, over ruled by Qayla of course. The grown-ups were somewhere though there location I don't remember.

"Stay in the backyard."

Then India said, India her name slices knives across my tongue, how long has it been since I last spoke her name, but you probably already guessed it, I don't remember.

"Qayla lets go side out and play!"

All through the yard we ran, I hid under the smiling picnic table, and she, India hid under the old sagging tree weighed down as if by the whole world. It seemed like hours we played that game, until even the wind seemed to join in on our fun. The next game we played though I don't--- yes I do remember, we played Houdini. We used jump rope to tie each other to a lawn chair, and the other two would hide like thieves among the woods. You had to be like a magician to get out of the snake coiled ropes and then you could go and find the others.

"Stay in the backyard."

When it was my turn to be captive, her majesty Qayla decided that this game was getting old, and how she wanted to get some candy. Well the logical choice was of course was let's get some candy. We flew back to the house and raided the cabinets like bandits. But after a while we realized that, there was no candy.

"Let's go to the store."

Another one of Qayla's Einstein theory's, but what an idea it was, Qayla is a very persuasive person like Marten jr. she always had a dream, and how hard is it to persuade a four year old, that was my age wasn't it. India better named mother Teresa, as usual had her doubts but it was candy, how could she deny herself such sweet pleasures, we weren't really saints just 4, 6, and 7 year olds, India being the oldest.

"Stay in the back yard."

So we went up stairs where the grown-ups lay asleep, everyone stayed after the family reunion. We found Uncle Craig, but he was on his way out, so we went to find my dad but he was going with Uncle Craig to do something, I really don't remember. Then they directed us to find Uncle Pete, following strictly behind. They asked Uncle Pete if he would take us to the store down the street. He said yes, and told us to wait for him until he got out of the shower, and told us to,

"Stay in the back yard."

So to the backyard we went playing another round of Houdini, until we thought lets use this curling python and actually jump rope. We played all the games you could dream of

"Cinderella dressed in yellow"

"Stay in the back yard"

"On the river on the bank"

"Stay in the backyard"

"Teddy bear teddy bear"

"Stay in the back yard"

It seemed as if time ran by us on his limber and swift feet, though it only had to have been 30 minutes that we were in the backyard. Then Qayla came up with another grand idea.

"Let's cross the street and go to the store our selves, we can be back in a little bit."

At that very instant, I heard a whistle though only I knew who it was, my dad of course calling to tell me it was time to go. I whined and cried my crocodile tears about, wanting to stay for our next great adventure. So he promised that when we got back from picking my mom up from work, he would take us to the store. So I got in the car, and as the engine started I waved good bye to Qayla and India, I waved good bye. As we got farther down the street my dad asked me, what were you guys going to do? And all I said was

"I don't remember"

It wasn't until later that I found out what had happened on that cold summer day I hate to remember. Qayla and India went ahead with there plans to go to the store, the car never saw them. But India saw the car, that's why she turned and pushed Qayla back out of the way, she was after all our little saint. Though Qayla had been pushed it only lessoned the impact and she, was still hit all the way to the stop sign at the end of the road. As for India she was hit all the way to the very same store we had wanted to go to so badly. It was her last adventure; the voyage fate denied me to take.

"Stay in the backyard."

For years I thought if only, if only I had told my dad what we were planning to do that day. If only I had said something, India never made it back home that day, and Qayla was rushed to the intensive care unit. Though with time her scars did heal, the ones left uncared for inside slowly destroyed the girl I once knew. And my scar, though invisible to the human eye, felt just as deadly. Chris Dixon wrote a poem once about scars the ones that time can never mend.

Shattered glass
a broken past
bits and pieces everywhere

I try to sweep them all away
but the shards are all still there

They poke and prod
and embed in my skin

Cutting and bleeding
invading within

Leaving me swollen
and raw with pain

Leaving me wounded
and feeling insane

Invisible glass
that only I see

Invisible glass
that only cuts me.