We lived in a different world back then. It was hard. Dirt roads, corn fields, and bikes. The life I lived was all I knew and I never questioned that it might be anything but ordinary. Looking back I realize that it was anything but.
We weren't exactly dirt poor but we didn't have much money either. But that didn't take us away from ordinary. There were plenty of families with the same situation. No, if anything, looking back...that just made us common. I'm not going to lie...at the time I hated that. Felt like an outsider....more from the thoughts inside my head than from anything else.
No, the thing that moved us past ordinary was not something material....a lack of money, old farmhouse, or run down cars. The thing that I never really realized until much much later was the odd series of events that unfolded, off and on, throughout my childhood were just not ordinary events that everyone experiences.
I can remember being as young as 8 or 9 and hearing the front door open, footsteps, the dog barking and jumping on someone or something...that just...well it just wasn't there. Or at least none of us could catch a glimpse of it, if we dared venture into the livingroom and click on a light. My father tried many many times to figure out exactly what entered. Though he NEVER talked about it...at least not in front of me. I'm not sure if he ever really discussed it with anyone. Only mother felt strong or sure enough to question the oddness of our almost weekly visitor.
In and of itself, perhaps that doesn't move us into the realm of odd.....but there was more, much more.
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