Colorado Nights

I was six years old when I rode my first airplane. I brought my Adam and Eve coloring book and my American girl doll— my two favorite toys at the moment. I was set for the long haul. Although I went in with zero fear, the turbulence and ear popping had me in a loop. I remember crying regularly throughout the flight, and looking back, I feel bad for the other passengers who were forced to endure it.

We were heading to Colorado for my Uncle Alan’s second marriage, which was a complete scandal to my immediate family, by the way. Coming from a strict, cult-like, southern Church of Christ, these people were absolutely exotic to me. My uncle’s fiancé shared my first name, Victoria, and she was one of the most glamorous women I had ever seen.

She wore all the latest fashion trends including, to my both my complete shock and secret admiration, a belly button ring! Both Victoria and her daughter, Ashley, had these wicked accessories and got to wear trendy crop tops and glittery makeup as well. Oh, how I envied them. I knew my mother was ashamed for them, and that I should have been too, but I couldn’t help but to immediately adore them.

Although we went for the wedding, I have no memory of the celebration. I do remember hanging out around their house, though, because it was on a ranch on the outskirts of Denver, and I had a total blast exploring it. You have to realize, growing up homeschooled for six years, you didn’t get to see a lot of the world. I thought my 10 acre rural home and small town community was a good portion of the world, and my grandma who lived in Nebraska lived right next to China.

A simple Colorado ranch was like Disney World to me. While my sheltered brain soaked it all up, I was grateful for the sensory overload. There were so many different kinds of people to look at and observe, and the surrounding land looked funny compared to Arkansas’ forest engulfed hills. My mother whispered her judgments of others in my ear while my father conversed good heartedly with them all. I didn’t say much, because my true opinion wasn’t allowed to be spoken, but I enjoyed daydreaming what it must be like to be any other person but me on that ranch.

From my earliest memories, I was obsessed with horses. You could have called me a “horse girl”. So when my mother woke me up one morning to tell me my cousin Ashley was going to take me riding on one of their horses, I guess you could say that I was head over heels in excitement.

My mother had told me that they couldn’t afford to give me horse riding lessons, much less a horse of my own, so I volunteered back home at a therapeutic horseback riding center. I basically did everything but get to ride the horses. I mucked their stalls, fed them and groomed them, and all that other gross stuff that no one would ever want to do for free. Call it child labor, I was in heaven.

Anyways, this horse I got to ride was a Palomino, my favorite breed of horse. She was white with brown speckles, and she looked like my favorite horse, Billie, from back home at the therapeutic center. I think I got to ride her for about an hour, but it only seemed like a few seconds. My cousin Ashley was about 16 and probably wanted to do anything else but hang out with this horse obsessed six year old, but I helped in every way I could to alleviate the burden of having to hang out with me. Despite my efforts, she definitely got back at me for it later, which bring us to the last night of our visit.

My two older siblings were a lot better acquainted with my older cousins, and you can imagine them wanting to stay rid of me. Being the youngest in a strange place is always the worst if there isn’t anyone your age because you get the worst of all the jokes and tricks. I had finally figured out where all the cool kids were hanging out, and as soon as I had arrived they all decided hide-and-seek was a great idea. Heck, I didn’t care what they wanted to do, I was just happy to be included.

Someone started counting, and I bolted towards the nearest thing that seemed like a decent place for a hiding spot. It was this big red barn that I had been in earlier with the horses, but at night time it was pitch black. I found a cozy little corner to wiggle my way into and by the time I had settled into my spot, I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. It was eerily quiet too. I started getting scared, but I knew my time was about up. I didn’t have enough time to find another spot, and I wasn’t going to be made fun of because I was scared of the dark.

All the horror camp fire stories my siblings had ever told me started flashing before my mind’s eye, and I felt my throat tighten up and my eyes started burning. When all of the sudden, I heard a gentle coo of an old barn owl brush against my ears. Something about the sound calmed me down, as if waiting for that next “coo” gave my brain just enough to focus on that nothing else seemed so scary. I didn’t really get to hear owl’s that much back home. Usually the sound of crickets and bull frogs drowned out the sound of most of the other critters. It was such a pleasant and reassuring sound to me that I ended up falling asleep where I was. I’m not sure how many hours I was asleep, but by the time I woke up there was no owl to be heard and I was cold. Too cold.

The smell of betrayal hit my nose. It was a common smell unfortunately. My siblings were a lot older than me so they found clever ways to get rid of me often. I gingerly stood up from my hiding spot, with TV-like static spreading through my legs, and slowly wandered back into the open. No one was looking for me or missed me. It didn’t make me sad necessarily. I only settled into a deep place in my mind that I now recognize as dissociation or maybe even depression. The thing is, I thought I probably deserved that treatment being as annoying as I was. I walked around hoping that maybe I would just disappear and make it easier for everyone else, but the hardest part was knowing that I couldn’t.

I turned a corner and that’s when I found them. All the older kids just sitting on the tail bed of a rusty old Ford truck. None of us said a word about the game they failed to play. I just stood there with them hoping, beyond all logic, that despite what they did they would still let me stay. I didn’t understand what they were joking about, besides something like boys and girls kissing so like always I just kept my mouth shut. And they didn’t say anything to me either. I just kicked rocks and wished I was sitting in the branches with the old barn owl again. Then maybe I could fly away from myself and be someone that I never would be able to be.