Homecoming.
Good day to you,
.
This morning I was thinking about my brother, because it is about time I went to see him, and I remembered something from way back when we were small children.
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He had fallen over and hurt his knee, some time before it was noticed that he had red lines running from his knee upwards towards his groin.
It was serious, and he was taken into hospital for a time.
During this period of hospitalisation, my parents made some tedious journeys on the bus in order to visit him.
I was left alone at home with instructions not to leave the house and not to open the doors, no matter what. I was very young and I did not like being left on my own like that.
It was equally galling, in those post war years of penny pinching and austerity, to see my parents buying treats and comics to take to my brother and me not getting anything.
All my parents talked about was my brother and no one took any notice of me.
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Finally they were given a date to go and collect the recovered boy and bring him home.
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Oh, what a flurry of activity and excitement that engendered.
There was a shopping frenzy to buy new pyjamas, slippers and things to occupy him whilst he got back to normal again.
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Soon, there I was once more, left at home alone and ignored, nobody worried about me…just him.
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Finally, thoroughly angry, I went into his unusually tidy bedroom and looked at all the lovely new stuff awaiting his triumphant return that day.
It was then that I was taken over by the green- eyed monster.
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I took one of his new, plush, beige slippers, the really nice ones with tartan turned back ankle cuffs, and a tiny little Bakelite type of stalked button sewn at the front join, pulled down my pants, positioned myself carefully, and pooed into it.
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Then I put it back, taking great care to align the now quite weighty slipper perfectly, so that both were positioned, just so, at the edge of his bed.
I waited.
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Soon, I heard the front door opening, closely followed by my father coming, heavy footed, up the stairs to our flat, carrying my brother in his arms.
He, of course, was triumphantly gripping all the comics and gifts that he had received during his hospital stay.
Balefully, I sat watching, as they fussed all over him before taking him off to bed.
This was it. Heart pounding I waited for the explosion to take place.
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Nothing happened.
Nothing was said.
Ever.
I went off to bed as usual that evening and everything carried on as normal.
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Later on, as an adult, I once thought of asking about it. But I forgot.
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What a horrible little girl. I never once worried about my poor brother going to hospital.
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I have changed.
I hope.
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Have a grand day yourself, and may all your bowel movements be in the right place.
LOL,
J
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