Searching for Blue Skies Before and After September 11
Lessons in looking at the dark and light sides of human nature
April 1976
I am four years old. I am standing in the bedroom of Melinda’s ranch house. We are friends from preschool. Proudly, she holds a framed photograph so I can take a closer look. In the photo, she wears a beautiful lace and floral dress. The kind of dress that reminds me of pictures from my Disney’s Cinderella book. She tells me she was a flower girl in her aunt’s wedding. Flower girl. It sounds so beautiful to be a flower girl. She points to a delicate glass bell with etched flowers on her bookshelf — her aunt gave her this bell as a gift for being in her wedding. I’ve never seen anything so fancy, I think. I wish it was me who got to be the flower girl. I wish it was me who had the glass bell on my bookshelf.
Melinda goes to the bathroom, leaving me alone in her room. I am mesmerized by the photo, the dress. Then, I pick up the bell and hold it. Suddenly, I am filled with hot anger. I want to break that glass bell. I want to break it so much. I don’t want Melinda to have it. Why should she have it? I imagine throwing it down on the floor — hard.
I put it back on the shelf.
