a fictionalized account of a childhood moment, written for a fiction class in february 03.

Bye-Bye on a Truck

(Feb 03)

She was skipping outside on the warm cement patio in her backyard, surrounded by her whole family. It was her fourth birthday party, and she eyed the growing stack of presents with anticipation. She was the center of everyone's attention today, and that was exactly how she liked it.

She wore a pink sundress, and her chin-length blonde hair was pulled back in barrettes, though she wished it was long and ponytailed like all the other little girls'. Her mom said she couldn't let her hair get long until the part she'd cut herself grew back down to match the rest. She didn't understand why that part couldn't just stay shorter. It seemed fine to her. But then, purple-markered arms also seemed fine to her, much to her mom's dismay. Scissors and markers both spent their time in a locked closet and on high shelves.

"Tina! It's time to eat." Her mother had been trying to get the girl to sit down and eat all day, but she was too excited to sit still. Ignoring her mom, she kept running around the yard.

"Tina!!" her mom called again. The girl's grandmother shot her a dirty look for trying to quiet down the birthday fun. She ignored it and called her daughter again.

"Tina went bye-bye on a truck," the girl informed her mother as she skipped by. "I'm Schaetzle." At age four, she was already having a mid-life crisis. She refused to answer to the name her parents had given her, preferring to be called Schaetzle, a German endearment her Oma always called her.

"But the presents are only for Tina, honey," her mom explained, trying to find some way to negotiate with practiced four-year-old logic. The girl, of course, was one step ahead.

"Well," the little girl said, contemplating the loss of the giant pile of brightly wrapped gifts she'd been waiting for since the week before. "Tina will come back for the presents," she declared loudly for all to hear, "and then go bye-bye on the truck again." She couldn't bear the thought of missing out on tearing the ribbons and paper off those boxes and flinging it around the yard, not to mention finding out what her family had brought her. She'd asked for quite an extensive list of things, and expected every one of them to be inside those boxes, even the pony.

She skipped off again, her blonde hair bouncing behind her. Her mother shook her head and laughed despite herself. Eventually her daughter would get hungry enough to sit down and eat, and until then it looked like Schaetzle had taken over for the afternoon. Reasoning with four-year-old logic was a losing fight at best, especially when the grandparents took sides with the kids.