Confessions of Thief

The other day I was listening to the radio while driving when the topic of stories came up. As I listened attentively to the host's discuss the subject of "A story you like to tell that never gets old", I began to recall my own stories. Truth be told I couldn't think of anything as my morning coffee hadn't quite my insomniac brain.

Suddenly like lightening it all came back to me. I still remember it like yesterday, even though it's been almost 30 years since it happened. I understand by telling you all this story I am incriminating myself, but the statue of limitations has gone up and I am now free to confess my sins.

It was a dark and dreary night, just kidding...

I come from a big family so even the smallest events are amplified Christmas requires a church size hall, Thanksgiving demands a buffet menu, even a sleepover can feel like a block party. Which brings me to my confession, I mean story.

My Dad was always the adventurous type, ask anyone who's met him and they'll tell you an off the wall story about his exploits. Mines is always the same. My Mother is oldest of 17 children (yup big family!), and on occasion she and her sisters would head out on a ladies night. This particular night happened to be around Halloween. My Dad, along with a few other dads, was left to tend to about 10 chitlins as the women went out. As the night grew closer we all began to bicker about how we never got to do anything fun. Just then Dad comes along, with a few drinks in him might I add, and asked us what we wanted to do so badly. Without hesitation we all yelled "Pumpkin Farm!!" Our local pumpkin farm was out on a desolate road, as all pumpkin farms are, near the highway.

He wrangled us up as we all threw on our coats and told us to squeeze into his 1984 Red Chevy Station Wagon. Without batting an eye we jumped in, the older kids pushed their way into the seats while us younglings lined up along the edges of the cargo. I always loved riding the cargo just for the fact that I could take in the surrounding scenery as made our trek to whatever destination we were headed to. On this night however the streets look exceptionally quiet, the roads were dimmed save for the yellow street lights, only the humming of the station wagon engine filled the streets. Our little wagon-cabin was full with enough of the chatter and glee to fill Bourbon Street on Mardi Gra, or what have you. However, even those sounds were dampened as we reached the main road and gaged our eyes on the emptiness of the long stretch of road.

The wagon made a sharp turn towards the pumpkin farm located down about a half mile down the road. The abyss enveloped us in darkness now. The only sound we could hear was that of the rubber wheels crunching the gravel road. "Where are we?" I heard. "At the pumpkin farm," Dad replied. "It's closed!" we all yelled. "Well grab a pumpkin!" he said as he shifted the wagon into park. The click of the door locks sounded and everyone jumped out. There's no rules! Just grab a pumpkin and get back in the car asap! I thought. Big and small, lumpy and smooth, there were so many pumpkins to choose from. I nabbed a small greenish one as everyone raced to stake their claim.

As the station wagon began to load up I dashed from the scene of the crime when suddenly heard a yelp. "Help!" heard in the distance, my eyes peeled as I turned to look back. I saw my cousin hunched over a carriage sized pumpkin with her spaghetti arms weakly wrapped around the behemoth. I set my golf ball like pumpkin on the ground and rushed over to lend a hand, and in that moment I heard the terrible sound of the gravel spewing! I whipped my head around to see a gray mist where the station wagon once stood. The lasting image of my cousins and older brother open mouths and hands pressed against the cargo window still haunts me to this day. Their cries of "Stop!" echoing in the distance. "They left us." I whispered. My cousin jogged passed me and yelled "Comeback!!!" to no avail. Abandoned misfits were. The wagon reached the main road before suddenly making a u-turn back for us. This time without wasting a breath I jumped as the hitch opened, completely forgetting either pumpkin. The drive home was filled with relief and silence, that is of course until my Mother found out. But we'll save that for another story.