Rare Moments

I know before I tell this story it may be a bore in comparison to lions and waterfalls, but it is one of those stories that you can relate to because it is life in its simplest form.

One of my favorite moments in life was when I was maybe 12 or 13. My family was going to Chincoteague for the day. We did not take week long beach vacations in my family growing up, and while my mother I think believes this is why I find the need to travel now—to make up for lost time—I don’t think I’d want my childhood to be any different. Instead my family on occasion went to the beach for the day, occasionally camping somewhere overnight. So as we were driving to Chincoteague we were listening to Bob Marley’s Greatest Hits. And my favorite song, Buffalo Soldier came on, and me and my brothers sang the whole song together, with the windows down and the warm air blowing on our face. We all laughed afterward and it is a moment I have never forgotten. And try as I might with other songs, I have never been able to recapture that moment in quite the same way ever again.

Two nights ago as I sat with my sister playing cards, Presca was near by. I don’t normally call Presca my sister, and really calling her anything but her name would not be appropriate. Presca is not related to the family, and she has a cool if not slightly dangerous spirit. She knows enough to know she should be more apprehensive, but she is immature enough to not really try. She sings to herself, and has a giggle that is menacing to say the least. She doesn’t speak much French even though she goes to school everyday, where they speak French. She talks back sometimes and in general she acts like the definition of a crazy person.

So we are playing card, when my sister tells me to look at Presca. She is holding a tiny mirror that broke off god-knows-who’s moto, and has a razor in her hand. She is shaving her head. Now the girls her all have to keep their heads shaved for school, so this isn’t the crazy part of it. The crazy part is the razor. As I look closer and the light hits it right you can see she has cut her scalp. I cringe and I am worried for her. She could really hurt herself. When she sees my horrow, she of course laughs and keeps going. When my aunt comes in the concession she runs away. Like I said she knows enough sometimes to be worried of her actions. She returns and half her head is bald, and the parts that are shaved have chunks of hair attached. Finally a friend of the family comes in and rescues her.

Twenty minutes later, after applying medicine to her cuts, which give her white spots on her head, I still can’t help but laugh at Presca. Then Presca decides to take to mocking me when I yell at Beaugard. She assumes that hitting all animals is the best way to discipline, so my yelling no at Beaugard is of great amusement. Her impression is actually quite good, and I can’t help but laugh. All of us laugh, and I eventually take to mimicking Presca, who then mimics me making fun of her.

Like I said, I know this story isn’t amusing from an outsider, but it was one of those rare moments, like singing “Buffalo Soldier,” in the car with my brothers that could never be repeated. It is a moment that capsizes on the familiarity and bond you have with a group of people.