ten, nine, eight...

ten;

on valentine's day,

my father would put a stuffed animal on the porch.

ring the doorbell.

i would answer, expecting him.

and all there would be is a stuffed bear or something.

i opened the door, picked up the animal,

and looked around. 

i'd close the door and walk inside,

and he would come to the door and surprise me.

that was when he lived not far away,

and didn't have anything else to do with his time.

i was his only at that time.

nine;

one christmas,

my sister and i got a present together.

we unwrapped the box,

undid the tape that was on the box,

and at the sight of the styrofoam,

i exclaimed, "yay! exactly what i wanted!"

and proceeded to rip a piece of it off,

and put it in my mouth.

i paid no attention to the television inside the box.

this memory taught me to love the little things.

if you don't believe me, i have it on tape. (:

eight;

unhappy memory.

our lawn mower was on our lawn,

and i looked at it.

one of our cats, shampoo,

was on top of the bag.

another cat, one of the newest ones,

a kitten, my favorite,

was inside the bag. i ran inside to tell tim.

not to turn on the lawn mower.

my mom said he was already outside. 

i yelled in horror,

and ran back outside.

the lawn mower was already started,

and the kitten rolled out of the front of the lawn mower,

dead.

it was traumatizing.

we buried it and i cried like a baby.

eight days until i'm an adult. 

crazy.