Superhero

A different kid is Charley Findley.   Dressed in a superhero costume for ‘show and Share’, aka, ‘Show and Tell’, Charley minces home.

That was long before The Fantastic Four.
Cartoons provided all the superheroes or there are no heroes at all.

Billy Hardcastel guffaws from the back, “awe… save it for Halloween.’ Everyone laughs.  The teacher writes a note home to my mother.

Dear Mrs. Smith,
Charley needs to talk to you about, ‘show and share.’ 

Sincerely,

Donna Jones

That was back in the day when a teacher could expect a parent to ‘parent.’

Mother imagined  me as possibly crazy ever since the catapult incident last July 4th.  The word

‘short bus’ crossed her mind.

Panic ensued. All my fantasy toys were burned but the bow and arrow were not torched.

Privately, I slipped into a fairy-circle realm every chance I got.

I could disappear and reappear at will. I lived for time in the woods.  For me, the bush is the

charmed place. Dead trees become Monsters and wild bees create hives of honey that I

harvested as they sleep in November.

That had been my reality until that very moment of the note.

One moment of lapsed judgement at Show and Share had cost me my kingdom.

The grocery bag of “Star-Of-The-Week” stuff seems heavy to me:

Yo-yo

Robin Hood pen knife

small stringed kite

two horse chestnuts

a baking soda powered plastic submarine

one charred Chewbacca.
Oh boy…  I blew it…. I am not a superhero today.

And now this:  Lions      10

Dreamers 0