Originally written in February 2008, the following story was an in-class assignment: Write about a childhood incident that still reverberates. We had 10-12 minutes to write.
Ahh, Marineland. One of my favorite places!
It was a gorgeous day - though I don't recall the sun or weather. I do recall, however, sitting in the bleachers of a stadium, looking down at a huge swimming pool. OK, it was really a tank; but I had no other frame of reference at age 7.
I was captivated by the dolphins - beautiful sleek creatures, swimming effortlessly; gliding, really. The tricks were amazing - flip, 2 flips, 'walk' through the water on its tail, jump, jump higher, through this hoop, through that hoop. I was enthralled. I was in love!
Daddy asked if I liked the show.
"Oh, yes! Yes I did! I want one please."
Dad laughed that dismissive laugh. I know now that it was dismissive. Then, at 7, all I knew was that it wasn't a No. "Sorry, Little One, we can't have a dolphin at the house."
I rattled off all the pros: we have a pool, we have hoops, I know how to swim. "All I need is the blue suit. And the dolphin."
Dad laughed that dismissive laugh again. I kept pushing. I enlisted Mom, pleading. She simply said "No."
"But Daddy didn't..."
She stopped, turned to me, bent over so her eyes aligned with mine. "No. N-o." I looked pleadingly at Daddy.
"I told you no."
I stood there.
I crossed my arms.
I marched - yes I marched - through the park, arms crossed, still smarting from the No's. I did not speak for the rest of the day.
I guess you could say that was the day I epitomized being a Taurus.