Today I was reminded of a game my grandmother and I used to play when she was alive. Well, it was less of a game and more like her just stepping on my toes. I remember her challenging me one day. Her older wisdom versus the cocky young hormone filled brain of my teenage mind. Her baiting me in with a "I bet you can't..." sort of thing. Being A MAN, I stepped up to the plate before I knew what the game was. She bet me that she could step on my toes and make me flinch. She never won, let's just get that one thing clear.
First she tried just stepping on my toes with her toes. Shoe on shoe contact. She'd get in my face and pivot her weight onto my toes. Inches from my face, she'd do her grin. Nothing. Didn't even hurt. I'd laugh at her and tell her to come back with something better.
Then she would try stepping on my toes with her feet perpendicular to me for added pressure. Still nothing. She'd roll all her weight onto the side of her foot, the weight bearing down on my toes. I'd suck up the pain just like I did when my friend bet me to walk across the black asphalt during a hot summer in southern California. Sure the tender arches of my teenage feet were burnt and smelled alarmingly like fried chicken, but damn if I'd show any bit of pain.
I miss my nanny. I also miss being a teenager. Wait a second, no I don't miss being a teen at all. Being 28 years old is great! I don't have to go to house parties anymore. Impressing the ladies no longer means doing stupid pointless shit like digging the deepest hole at the beach and then asking them to come see how dark it is at the bottom. Now I just show up to wherever I am. BOOM! Ladies all over me.
No comments:
Post a Comment