Boundaries

Picture by ME

So this is a story we were required to write last year. I'm rather fond of it.

My children take all the dangers in the world for granted. They feel as if they are invincible, and that nothing will ever happen to them. Their complaints are overwhelming. Why can’t I go to the park alone? Why can’t I walk around the neighborhood? Why can’t you let me be independent?
As a kid, my siblings and I ran amok. Danger followed us while we chased it, never realizing. Only now do I comprehend all the utterly stupid things that we did. Nobody was there to watch us, and now we live with the consequences of our naivety.
I made the mistake of telling my children about my childhood, and now they use it against me. They don’t understand why I have to protect them so much. “You had fun, why can’t we?” They won’t understand any of my answers, not until they have children of their own.
It was horrific when I first realized that as children, we needed a guide, and we didn’t have one. There was no grace to my epiphany, it just happened, fast and brutal.
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Russell was the oldest and the only one of us that understood that the world was a dangerous place. He was 17, Cheryl was 14, Lori was13, and I was the baby at 10. We went exploring with a few American friends outside of the Military base that our father worked at in Germany. Jack, Diane, Lisa, and Sara were our neighbors whose house was only separated from ours by a neatly spaced line of Italian cypress trees. They came with us everywhere we went. No minors were permitted to leave the base precincts without an adult, but there wasn’t good security around the boundaries which made it easy to sneak out.
When Russell stood outside the kitchen doorway to tell my mother that we were going out, she never turned around from the dishes to even look at his face. “Mhm,” she said. She’d heard, but hadn’t really listened. He didn’t need to tell her, but he felt it was his obligation to let her know.

“Come on guys, you are so slow!” Lisa called back to me as she giggled and ran even farther ahead. I kept whispering with Sara and dragging my feet. We were walking along the trail to the park, looking side to side for a place to play. Trees rose up on either side of the trail like walls which made it hard to see. The park was a back up plan; we were hoping to find something better before we got there, but the exterior border of the woods was approaching, and the rest of the trail didn’t look much different than what we’d already seen.
When we arrived at the park, there were only three of us: me, Lisa, and Sara. Cheryl, Lori, and Diane, split off a while back to go talk about boys in a place cut off from all other ears, and later, Russell and Jack split off the road to explore.
We stood in an awkward silence, not knowing what to do, not wanting to be the first person to be childish and suggest going to play on the playground, and not brave enough to introduce the subject of boys. Finally the childish side won. “Let’s go to play war zone on the playground,” said Lisa as she started to run towards it. “Last two there’s the enemy!” Sara and I were last.
We’d played for about 20 minutes. Sara had been shot down and resurrected four times, Lisa five, and me only twice. Sara and I had used the tank, or the metal bar fire truck, to blast a hole in Lisa’s fortress (it didn’t have very good security). We were beginning to seize the fortress; Lisa had already retreated to her “safe zone”, the monkey bars, when we heard barks coming from the forest. Like soldiers crossing enemy lines, two German Shepards came barreling out from behind the wall of trees.
“Our reinforcements have arrived!” I said, although they didn’t seem like they wanted to help. Just to be safe, Sara and I started making our way to the monkey bars. Sara was already up, and the dogs were getting close.
“Kathy, hurry up,” Lisa said in a stern, concerned voice. The dogs continued their charge towards the playground. Just as I was about to swing my right leg up to the bars, one of the dogs had caught on to the pant leg of my jeans. I tried to play it off like I wasn’t scared, but my heart was screaming. Sara began to yell for help while I tried to give a faint laugh, to show I was brave. Lisa saw my confidence and started to laugh with me.
I had managed to get my leg free and was on top of the monkey bars by the time some German adults walking along the trail looked over to check and see if the yells were coming from people actually in need. We weren’t as scared anymore, we were just thinking of ways we might get down.
“Do you know these dogs?”
“Can you help us?”
“Please, get them away.”
Of course they didn’t understand, and we didn’t seem to be in too much distress, so they continued on their way. The dogs didn’t. They stayed around, and after a while, even tried to jump and nip at our dangling feet. Sara started to call for help again. This time, Lisa and I joined in. I heard Russell’s voice faintly from behind the trees in the forest. “Kathy? Lisa? Are you okay? Sara?” The dogs heard the voice too and ran after it.
“The dogs, Russ! The dogs!” I yelled, with as much urgency as I could. I saw Russell’s face just before he was pinned to the ground by one of them. His eyes were wide with fear and concern. Jack sprinted down the trail to find the hikers that had just passed, and the other German Shepard sprinted after him.
I don’t know if it was by coincidence or by fate that a large tree blocked the view from the “safe zone” to where my brother lay with a dog clawing his face. Maybe it was there to save our innocence from someone else’s naive mistake. All our calls for help were silenced as we watched the stray pieces of Russell’s wrestling match with the dog. It was like watching only half of a war movie, the half without the action. You don’t know if you want to see the gruesomeness, but you want to see the heroes before they are completely mutilated.
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My brother didn’t die that day. Jack had found the hikers, and they were able to chase away the dogs. But Russell’s face was extremely disfigured. There are scars all over it. My mother can never see him and not remember that day. Maybe if she had asked, wondered, or even cared where we were going, Russell might still have his face. I protect my children so I can save myself from a life consumed by guilt.