Please allow me to introduce myself: My name is Michelle. I was a nerd in High School. A short nerd. Still am! Short, that is. I could stand upright in a locker, and would just offer to get in, no need to shove me, thank you very much! I could actually stand in there quite comfortably!
This week’s writing prompt really excited my husband. Its not that I was an ‘angel’ – I always stayed out much later than my curfew, I experimented with green and pink hair, and at one time had 8 holes to wear 8 earrings. 5 in my left ear, 3 in my right. I pierced them myself, responsibly, with a sterilized needle, of course. But I never really did anything dangerously stupid.
My husband Mike however, was a fountain of information and inspiration for this topic. When I explained to him what I needed to write, he enthusiastically told me several things I wish he hadn’t. He started by telling me that he and his friends used to ride their bikes down concrete stairs, under a tunnel, not unlike ours here in Alliston. When that got ‘boring’ they’d jump their bikes down, hoping to land on the ground and not half way down the stairs. “And we used to see who could ride his bike the fastest toward a brick wall, stopping just before we crashed!” I furrowed my brow, not sure why anyone would do this. On purpose. “Who ever got closest and didn’t smash into the wall and ruin his bike, or get hurt – was the winner!”
I shook my head as he continued… “Then there was the time I tried to make gun powder in my bedroom! I started a fire on my desk!” He laughs. I had nothing to say, except, of course, “Why?!” And he shrugged his shoulders. “To blow stuff up!” Still laughing, as if the answer should have been obvious. “What stuff”? I asked, as if any answer here would be a good one. “Nothing in particular” he says, having stopped laughing, but still reminiscing, enjoying the memories, and I am at a loss.
What takes the cake for me though, is his pool story. He told me of how when he was in high school, he and 2 or 3 friends would go to his place after school for a swim. They would climb up on to the roof of his house (thankfully it was a bungalow) and jump into the pool from there. He proceeded to tell me that it wasn’t as simple as just jumping. “We had to jump far enough not to hit the edge of the pool” he says. That goes without saying, I thought to myself. “But there was a Hydro wire running diagonally across the pool. From the house to the street pole, you know?” Yes, I understood. He smiles as he added, “so we had to make sure we went underneath it, which meant some fancy jumping and ducking! It was awesome!” When I ask if his parents knew, he quickly replies, through laughter, “are you kidding me? This one time my mom came home early, and we were still in the pool, and she could see all the water dripping off of the roof, and the roof itself was all wet, just full of water.” When asked about it, all the swimming boys dutifully responded “I don’t know”. So Mike’s mom was in a panic when Mike’s Dad arrived home, assuming that the solar heater on the roof had been leaking! The sun eventually dried everything up, like it usually did before Mike’s parents got home, but that afternoon found his Dad on the roof checking all of the pipes for the pool’s solar heating!
He grinned, an evil grin, as I made notes. “We have three boys. You have no idea what you are in for”. He walked away and I found myself wondering if I should have found any of this out before we decided to have children.