Childhood Memories

Spent the day in contemplation...reviewing my life.

I remembered a childhood incident not unlike that in the popular film “A Christmas Story”.

All the kids in the neighbourhood had BB guns except for me.

I begged and begged but my mother was adamant that I should never have one convinced as she was that something terrible would happen.  She had visions of me shooting my eye out or perhaps even injuring an innocent bird in the backyard.

Imagine my shock and surprise when one Christmas, when I was 8 years old, I found a brightly wrapped BB gun beneath the tree.

My father had relented and decided that I too should share in the same fun as my friends.

My mother, needless to say, was a bit upset but she finally, though hesitatingly, consented.

I spent that Christmas day running about the house with my new toy causing no shortage of alarm to the assembled family.

I should have heeded her earlier words for true to her warnings and in spite of my tireless effots to ‘play safely’ something terrible did happen.

I killed my grandparents.

With a knife.