Life is full of lessons, especially those learned as a child. A painful lesson I learned in life was to be careful who I trusted. Even a child’s parents can become his biggest enemy. When I was 7 years old, I was playing outside in the yard with my brothers, picking the grass, and throwing it all around.
I got tired, and went inside our house to get a snack. Entering the kitchen, I walked up to the freezer, took out the carton of Neapolitan ice cream, walked over to the counter while leaving the freezer door open, took a bowl from the cupboard, and a spoon from the dish rack, and scooped out some ice cream into the bowl.
Noticing the freezer door still open, I walked over to it, and closed the door with my leg.
Walking over to the table, I pulled out a chair, placed the bowl of ice cream onto the table, pulled my chair close to the table, and dug into the ice cream with my spoon, put the ice cream into my mouth, and enjoy every spoonful.
Upon finishing with my ice cream, I washed the bowl and the spoon in the sink with some dish washing liquid. Then, I tore a piece of paper towel from the rack and wiped my mouth, throwing the piece of paper towel into the paper garbage bag.
While I headed down the steps leading to the side door of the house, which was next to the stairway leading into the basement, I met up with my mother who was coming up the steps, carrying a basket of clean clothes.
With a smile on my face, I said, “Hi, mommy. I can’t tell a lie. That’s what George Washington told his father when he chopped down the cherry tree. And I’m telling you right now. Before you ask, and before you notice, I just want to let you know I ate some ice cream in the kitchen moments ago. Now, I know you said we can’t have any sweets until after dinner, but I just couldn’t wait, and…”
Before I could finish my sentence, my mother slapped my face after dropping the basket of clothes to the floor.
My flushed face was overwhelmed with a shower of tears. “What did I do wrong? I told you the truth. I was honest. I could have lied to you about it, and hid the truth, but I didn’t,” I shrieked.
“What do you think, that you should be rewarded for admitting something you did you knew was wrong?” My mother shouted while smacking me back hard with the palm of her hand, “You know better than to disobey me or you father. When I tell you not to do something, I expect you to comply. I don’t go for this nonsense of yours thinking because you tell the truth, you should receive leniency. No way are you going to go without receiving further punishment. You will be dealt with further when your father gets home. Now go outside and tell your brothers to come inside the house. I want them to help with putting their clothes away. You are to help with putting your own clothes away, as well,” she yelled viciously, with her eyes furled, and her face wrinkled up in the form any child would be scared of.
Ever since then, I never admitted to my mother or father about having done something wrong, because I knew I would be tortured for telling them the truth. Till this day, I only tell them what I know they want to hear. I didn’t even tell them I’m focusing on my writing endeavors when they telephoned my uncles house month ago from their home in Florida, and asked to talk to me. Instead, I told them I’m working as a teller in a bank, because I knew they would never approve of my writing pursuits, especially my father who is so dead against it.
© Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2015