Today’s writing prompt – Gremlins – Daily Post from WordPress

grem·lin -ˈɡremlən/

noun: gremlin; plural noun: gremlins

1. an imaginary mischievous sprite regarded as responsible for an unexplained problem or fault.

When I was a little girl, my dad called me an imp, not kitten, not punkin, and not princess.  Imp.  The definition for imp is pretty much the same as gremlin except that an imp just isn’t imaginary.  So basically, my dad considered me, his only daughter, to be a devilish little creature.

Hmmm, this got me to thinking about how this mischievous little sprite came to be.  Well, dad, maybe it had to do with the fact that you and mom kept giving me brothers, and not an older brother like I wanted, but little brothers that invaded my space and my privacy.  You gave me little brothers that rifled through my prized possessions, spied on me, and snooped through my diary.

Besides, you placed me in the middle of a neighborhood with all boys, and for years I was the only girl on the block until April showed up, and she was a tomboy too, just like me.  But until April showed up, I had to prove that I could climb trees and tight-rope walk back fences with best of them.  Did you ever wonder why I got stuck way up high in our redwood tree in the first place?  The boys dared me.  It wasn’t my fault that was the exact moment I discovered that I was afraid of heights.   And the nail in my foot that warranted an ER visit and a tetanus shot?  Yeah, the boys on the block bet that I could not walk the length of the Fontano’s back fence.  Guess I showed them, and before you even begin to wonder, yeah, the nail and the shot were really worth the respect I gained that day.  I didn’t even cry, not for the nail and not for the shot.  Okay the redwood tree was another matter, but it was really high and terrifying.

Now, I know you sometimes wanted a girly-girl, and sometimes she did appear.  I loved the pint-sized playhouse that you built for me in my bedroom on San Antonio, and I played in my little home every day.  And when I knew we were moving, I cried buckets because I had to leave my house behind.

Remember how excited I was when you brought home Suzie, my sweet yellow tabby.  She was my baby.

Oh, and that time, you took just me fishing.  I was so excited to catch a fish and wanted to show mom and then set it free.  I cried when we released it, and it went belly up.  You tried to comfort me and tell me that a seagull would have a great dinner, which just made me cry harder because I had just murdered my first fish.  I felt very girly at that exact moment.

Oh, and the time, I ran away from home.  I don’t remember why, but I got mad at mom when I was about five or six.  I told her that I was going to run away from home.  So, she helped me pack.  She brought out a large brown shopping bag and filled it with a change of clothes, clean socks and underwear, my toothbrush.  She also included a sandwich and snacks for dinner, and a coat and a small blanket because it was supposed to get cold that night.  Confusion set in.  Did my own mother just pack my bags?  That was not how the situation was supposed to transpire.  So, I took my little bag and walked down the back stairs and set in a small corner in the backyard while waiting for my dad to come home from work.  He would know what to do about this current mishap that I found myself in.  The little girl in me knew that my dad would fix this mess.  And he did.  As soon as I heard your car pull into the driveway, I dropped my paper bag, ran to the front yard.   Once you witnessed my distress, you set down your old metal lunchbox, scooped me up in your arms, and held me close.  And, you tried not to laugh when I stated, through my tears, that “Mom made me run away.”  The little girly girl had her hero.

And you, Dad, had your hands full.  Mama always said that all four boys put together were easier to raise than me!  So, looking back, I have to admit, imp was probably the best way to describe your less than angelic baby girl!

Gremlins – Daily Post