In the two-storey farmhouse, there stairway was behind a door. This was opportune for a curious child who loved to eavesdrop. I was also the kid who would sit on the step-stool beside the fridge where our black telephone (on the wall) was located. We were one of four families on the ‘party line’ which meant we shared a telephone line. It resulted in each of us having a unique ring … we were two long rings … so you knew when you should run for the phone. I would occasionally pick up after hearing one long/one short and listen in to Myrtle’s calls who lived down the road. Not exciting content but scintillating to know I was doing something wrong!
Hiding behind a door on a stairway or covering the telephone receiver with your little hand were never shared with my parents but here’s one secret I did tell my mother years later.
One Christmas, my brother and I asked for the game BATTLESHIP. In the week leading up to the 25th, we were certain that one of the wrapped boxes under the tree was it! We decided we would open it early as we could not contain our excitement. My brother and I had our own battles as I was the annoying little sister but, on this mission, we were united.
Our plan was to wait until mom and dad went to the barn to do the chores. We stayed in the house and upon their exit, we immediately took the box up to my room. We unwrapped it ever so carefully and began to play. It was short-lived but exciting! Then we put it all back in the box. Wrapped up the game and positioned it under the tree. My brother and I both acted surprised and thrilled Christmas morning and we never told my parents. I love that memory of my brother.
I can’t recall the prompt of why I shared that secret decades later with my 90-year-old mother. I know I was driving her around for an outing during her time in the long-term-care facility. Something came up and I told her the long-kept story. She was delightfully surprised and we laughed.
Did my parents and brother have secrets?
I won’t ever know as they are all dead and their first-hand stories have gone to the grave with them.
Will you ever tell one of your secrets? When do you tell? Why would you?
… shall I tell more?