Earliest Childhood Memory

I was seven, with thin cornhusking hair and large inquisitive brown eyes. My knees were cut up from running and falling out in the woods near my house. And I did run free and wild in those woods. I knew those woods, and the babbling creek that tumbled over rocks and branches. I knew where the thorns were and where every tree grew its roots. It was my playground.

My parents invited over some friends one day. Their kids came with them, a girl a little younger than me and the most handsome boy I had seen in my seven short years. He was tall dark and swarthy, with shaggy black hair and chocolate eyes. I wanted to give him everything I had to gain his affection. It was only natural I show him my land, the only thing I felt I had.

I showed them the magic and magisty. I brought them to the creek and showed them my trees, my flowers. And they were mine for I spent more time with them than anyone. I showed them the beauty of my world, but the boy would not give me the affection I so desperately desired. I wanted him to fall madly in love with me through the land that I was so fond of. As he threw stones in the creek, I imagined him as a prince, and I a princess.

My prepubescent mind searched the only knowledge I had of love: Disney movies. And in every single one of them the prince had to rescue the princess before they could have their happily ever after. So I got it in my mind that the boy had to save me. But what could he possibly save me from?

Snakes? No snakes around.

A maddening storm? The sun was shining.

A frothing demon? Fresh out of those.

That's when my gaze fell upon an old rickety tree that hung over the creek. I would climb that tree and my prince would surely rescue me! He had to, because at this point he was no longer a mere boy, but every brace hero I had read about or watched. I hardly knew him, but in my mind he was fierce, bold, and plucky. He would save me because his good heart would not see otherwise.

So up the tree I went.

"Oh, help me. Save me. I can't get down from this tree." I called,

My plaintif pleas were met with stark reality. The boy I had built up was just that, a boy. Confused, he asked me why I didn't just climb down.

"I'm stuck." I started to get upset. The plan was not working out.

That's when the branch under me snapped and plunged me into the creek. Covered in water and mud, with a bruised body and ego I returned to the loving arms of my mom. Through sobbed words I conveyed the basics of what happened.

"Why didn't you climb down?" She asked me.

All my reasons came out as an embarrassed "I don't know"

I never wanted a man to save me again. I vowed later, as the memory became epic in my mind, that I would always try to rescue myself. If I got myself into a mess, I could damn well climb back down the tree and get myself out.