... of walking and Winnebago's (Part II)

She told me to try to relax, close my eyes, and picture myself in a 'safe' place ... a place where I could let the cares of the world fall by the way. A place where I could think clearly. My eyes were closed. I tried to find "that" place.

The silence was broken when she asked, "Did you find a safe place?"

I said nothing. I was thinking.


Exactly WHAT I was thinking at that moment was, "I hope she realizes I'm not planning on being - nor will I allow myself to be - hypnotized."


But this wasn't about hynosis. It was simply about trying to set aside the cares and concerns of the day and concentrate. Focus. Relax.


Okay, I can do that. And honestly - who wouldn't want an opportunity to relax, to focus, to set aside any/all concerns of the day?

I closed my eyes a little tighter. My very next thought - to be specific - was, "I honestly don't think I can find a place where I feel safe. Where I can relax."

Hmm - I'm starting to wonder ... does this exercise come easier for other people?


I felt a little bad - the sick feeling that I was going to let her down, that maybe this was going to be a waste of her time. [Then again - she was being paid for this ... it wasn't a total waste.] But shoot. I was sincerely trying to find that "safe" place and it was eluding me.


She breaks the silence once again, "Have you found that place?" I want to crack a joke and say, 'Damn - I was almost there ... now I have to start over!" ha But I don't say anything. I know she's waiting on me but I don't respond. Although I have my eyes closed (hey, I do as I'm told) I can still tell in that deafening silence ... she's waiting. For my answer.

I don't have an answer yet. Hurry up! Hurry up! Come on!


It's a simple question: "Have you found a place that you can go where you feel 100% safe?"


Honestly? No. What can I say? No.

*****************************

When I was little I felt safe. In my neighborhood, in my backyard, in my home. Up until that bike ride down to the end of my street to hand out a 'revival invitation' I had felt "safe".

But on that day I jumped on my bike and rode down to the end of our block where my two friends, 'Bambi' and 'Trixie' (no, seriously!) lived. I was going to invite them to my church because we had a contest going on. Whoever invited the most people would win tickets to a concert I was dying to go to. I wanted to win.



Up until that day? Yes, I had felt safe in my neighborhood. I walked to and from school, I played outside, I went to the homes of my friends ... it was the old, "Go out in the morning - come back after the sun goes down." My friends and I used to play "red light/green light" - "statues" - "tag" - "hide and go seek." I hadn't a care in the world. And back then - yes, I felt "safe".


Then - I took that bike ride. It was the middle of the afternoon. I had grabbed a flyer and set out on my cool purple bike ... the one with the banana seat and white wicker basket that had three oversized plastic flowers on it.

It didn't take long to get to reach my destination. A house toward the very end of the block. I had made this ride many times prior to that day and, as always, I parked my bike at the base of their driveway and walked up to the porch.

I knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked one more time. Still - no answer.

About this time I look back toward my bike and notice a white van. It had slowed down and was still moving forward but - a guy was looking out the window at me. I can't describe his face to you - but I remember at the time feeling weird. He looked ... evil. That is the only way I can say it. How I can give that description when I can't for the life of me describe anything else about his looks - I don't know. But his was the face of evil.


He wasn't the one driving the van - he was a passenger in the front seat. All of the sudden the van stopped. This white van began backing up. I began to knock on my friend's front door a little faster. A little harder. I thought to myself, "Please open the door. I'm scared."


I was 7 years old.


I can still hear the sinister laugh of this passenger as he exited the van. This guy was staring at me and smirking. Everything is now being played back in slow motion. The door opens. He steps out. The smirking continues. I'm thinking, "That man is gonna' take my bike!" I didn't say shit then - but I think if I had known the word ... that's what I would have verbalized.


But I was too innocent to even know that word. Or really - to know about "bad guys". But I remember feeling bad because he was going to take my bike.


And then? He walked right past my bike!


Uh oh.

I don't know when I realized ... he didn't care about my purple bike with the pretty white basket and the banana seat with matching flowers. He was walking straight at me.


I began knocking with a stronger sense of urgency - harder, faster. "Oh God! Please open! Please open the door!" There was no answer.

About this time I notice the bushes by the porch and I was thinking I could jump in the bushes before he reaches the porch. I can hide.

I don't think I ever jumped in the bushes.

Honestly, I don't know what I did. I don't know what happened after that.

I'm so sorry I can't finish my story better. I can only tell you - it wasn't a dream and it really happened but ... I am unable to remember anything else.

Except that ... that ride down to my friends' house was the last time I ever felt ... "safe".