This story was included recently but it has disappeared. I found this one from several years ago from another blog that I did but if this one has a lot more detail than the now deleted more recent version.
Remember the movie with Bill Murray called The Man Who Knew Too Little? Well, when I was about 15 years old, I had my own brush with walking through the drama without a clue…
Picture it:
Sound asleep. Fifteen years old in night clothes consisting of a 70’s popular flower power cotton jump suit, neon pink from my neck to my feet with neon green and white flowers. Man! I was groovy! I was stylin’! (And actually, I made it in Home Ec!)
My room was on the opposite end of the house from my parents (I’m sure they planned it that way since I tended to stay on the phone all hours of the night, couldn’t sleep and would watch tv or play records).
Something woke me. What was THAT? Oh, wait. I just had to tinkle.
Guessing it was about 1 or 2 am, I knew it was much too early to think about getting up, so I stumbled across my room, opened the door, tramped through the dining room, into the hall, took care of business, made my way back to my room and fell back into bed.
I did this all with my eyes closed because I knew our house so well and never even turned on a light. My eyes were closed so that I wouldn’t get too awake and could just go back to sleep pretty easily.
The next morning, I bounded out of bed… well, to hear Mother’s side of things: I grumbled into consciousness and scowled my way into the kitchen and the breakfast table where Daddy was sitting and Mother – of course – was busy at the stove and the sink.
Within the next few minutes, I was wide awake and just astounded at the drama that had unfolded in the wee morning hours that, until this moment, I had no clue had taken place.
Ok, let’s rewind, and I’ll tell the story to include what really happened when I went to pee.
Shortly before I was awakened (now, I wonder if it was to have to go to the bathroom since I never did that), Mother and Daddy realized somebody was stealthily making their way through our house. An intruder!
Daddy kept a pistol hidden close to their bed, and he’d gotten up and was making his way through to get to my side of the house where he could do whatever it took to protect all of us without turning on any lights and without hearing much more than a few creaks and muffled bumps.
Suddenly, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard my bedroom door whoosh open and my heavy, sleepy steps moving directly where Daddy had figured the intruder was. He froze. He waited. He knew that he couldn’t say anything to me because it might put me in danger. He knew he would just have to wait to see if I would be allowed to go to the bathroom without being confronted with an undetermined-how-malicious-stranger in our home. He couldn’t expose his position until he knew exactly where the intruder was because it might put every single one of us in danger.
He was on edge ready to pounce if I encountered any threat or danger. He could barely breathe!
Then, he heard me making my way back to my bedroom, the door closed, and what happened next made Daddy thankful that I had a small bladder:
The intruder must have figured that we were now awake and would be more alert to his presence, so he ran out the door and down the street disappearing into the darkness before Daddy even got a glimpse of the escaping shadow.
I think of that story occasionally. It made me appreciate Daddy for many things: bravery, keeping his head under pressure, consideration for keeping me from being afraid, and more.
It also makes me wonder what other situations – good and terrifying – that we pass through without a clue as to what we’re missing. Is there a better way to move through life without “walking through the house without turning the lights on and keeping eyes closed?”
Hmmmmm…..
