Into the Land of Nede

Chapter 1 Time out “Uugh!” I thought to myself, as I plopped down on the bottom step of the stairway. I was having another time out. I don’t understand why I cannot get better control of myself. My Mom is right. I am eight years old and I need to start to learn that I cannot punch my younger brother every time that he messes up my stuff. A rage boils inside and I ignore what is happening until I cannot take it any longer. The top blows off my pot and I completely lose control. My thoughts come too quickly and I get frustrated because I am not able to get the words out quick enough. My reaction is just a release of my frustration. I need to have structure. There has to be a point. I don’t play just to play. I have a plan. My brother is not like me. He just does stuff with no purpose. He gets in my way. The rage boils right out of my hand as I thrust my fist toward him, trying to make him stop. I know it’s wrong but I don’t even seem aware of what is happening until it is too late. I could hear Mom in the other room, tending to the damage that I did to my brother’s face when I punched him. I actually didn’t mean to punch him in the face. I aimed for his back and he turned right into my fist and got a real pop, right in the cheek. I could hear Mom speak to Franklin in the next room. “Now put your head like this on the pillow and hold the ice. I am going to check on Lincoln.” My brother let out a final sniff as Mom’s slippers came sliding across the floor toward me. “What were you thinking?” Mom asked calmly, as she sat down next to me. I stared at the wall across the hall and didn’t move. “Lincoln,” Mom’s voice sounded tired. “What were you thinking? What happened?” Well now, I really didn’t have to answer because she was asking two questions and I was confused about which one I should answer first. “Lincoln?” she tried again, angry, this time. “What’s going on?” Suddenly I felt the words just flying out of my mouth. “Well, he bashed my guys that I had set up and knocked them all down and he didn’t even say sorry, then he laughed and thought it was funny.” I blurted this out quickly and held my breath waiting for a response from the Almighty Lawmaker, also known as Mom. “Is that the way that we are supposed to handle things, Lincoln?” “No, Mom,” I answered, completely defeated because it didn’t matter that he had started it, only that I had responded incorrectly. I quickly remembered to add. “Can I go say sorry?” “Your brother is knocked pretty hard. He is on the couch with the icepack. I am going to go sit with him and you, my son, are going to sit here for your time out and think about what you could’ve done differently. Think about how you might use your words and not your fists to explain yourself.” Mom leaned over and kissed me on the side of the forehead, and then she got up and went around the corner. I heard the whoosh of the cushion as she sat on the couch next to Franklin. I was eight years old and in second grade. My brother was six years old and in Kindergarten. I was always getting in trouble for retaliating against my brother when he acted up. He started it, I was just reacting to him but he never got in trouble. Franklin actually seemed to enjoy watching me set my stuff up and just when I got ready to actually play, he would come and knock it down. He had been doing it since he was born. Well, actually, he had not been doing it since he was born but, since I could remember he always messed with my stuff when he was tired and looking for attention. I usually got sent to this step twice a day on school days. On the weekends, I could visit the time out step as many as five times, especially if it was raining and I was not able to go out to play. Franklin and I really liked each other but we were just trying to find out where we belonged in relation to one another. Mom let us work it out most of the time without interfering. It was Mom’s job to take care of us and she was always within ear shot of what we were doing. I knew Mom really loved us. She spent a lot of time really playing with us. I didn’t know any other mom that spent as much time with my friends. Dad worked and traveled. I didn’t really know what he did. He spent a lot of time reading about history and he was a big fan of some early Americans which is why I was Lincoln and my brother was Franklin. At night, my Dad could be found in his office after dinner, with books spread out all over the place and papers falling all over the floor. Mom hardly ever came in to the office when Dad was working because she said she didn’t understand how he was getting anything done amidst all the mess that he was making. Franklin and I sometimes colored at the little table in the office while Dad worked. Dad printed the coolest coloring pages for us of Indians and jungles and mythical creatures. He would find them on the computer and then take a break from his work to tell us stories about the people and their lives. So, here I sat, again, with my butt on the hard wooden step and my feet on the rug that ran up the hallway. I rolled the rug up, kicking at the edge. I leaned back but, the step hit my spine in a most uncomfortable spot. I sat up, but, I was too tired and my muscles ached. So, finally, I hunched myself over my knees with my toes tucked under the edge of the rug. I never really looked closely at the rug before. I had occasionally played with my Matchbox cars on the rug because the border around it made a good road. The afternoon sun shone in a big rectangle through the window in the ceiling. For the first time I really noticed the rug. A lot of faded colors bled into each other in the worn rug. I knew it was an old rug. My Dad had the rug in his house when he was growing up. Apparently, Grandpa, (who I never met,) acquired it when he was in South America. When I asked if acquired meant bought, my Dad said, “No, not in this case.” Dad gave me a look which let me know that there would not be any more to the story of the rug. As I looked at the orange, green, pink and gold pop out of the dark blue background of the rug, I began to notice all of the shapes. Golden bundles of what looked like sticks tied together. Strange figures wore masks on their heads to make them look like they were part man and part animal. Two opposing trees stretched out in the center of the rug with branches full of strange flowers or fruits. Along the border, a snake-like creature worked its way around the entire rug. There were spiders, snakes, fruit trees, monkeys, and deer. I stared down at a golden brown deer painted on the rug, I began to feel dizzy. The deer came to life and began moving through the trees.