By: Jen Wainwright
In the blink of an eye – he was there, and I found myself staring into the face of That.
It was Saturday. With my partner out of town helping a friend build a pole barn, the kids and I had spent the day around the house. Kind of taking it easy, kind of tackling the 8,532 things that always need done – but with music playing, enjoying an easy, slow, catch-up-kind-of-Saturday together.
Around 7-ish, we’d all hit restless, bored. Done cleaning and whatnots, not ready for a movie and bed… A friend had posted on FB a spot to get pumpkins, cheap, with an honesty box.
“You guys wanna go get some pumpkins?”
Bam! A flurry! My kids were jumping around – fun! – and we were suddenly, unexpectedly off to get pumpkins!
Heading way out into the country, music jamming in our van, and – sure enough, there it was! A large trailer sitting by a house, loaded with pumpkins. My kiddos, excited, clamoring to get out of the van, and I spotted the honesty box, too. Good deal.
Goofing around, climbing about the trailer, my kids were searching for just the right pumpkin to choose. I was eyeing them up myself, too. This one will look nice on the porch, and this one in front of the garage, and only $2! Nice! We were having a blast…
And then he’s there.
This man. This large man, in a thick flannel, walking down the driveway toward us.
Immediate game changer: We are on a desolate country road, with no one around, at dark – as this large, shadowy figure of a man is walking toward us.
My mind, suddenly racing, is saying, “It’s just the man who owns the house. He’s a nice man coming to chat, watching over his pumpkins for sale…” while at the same time I find myself looking around for anything, a stick, a tool. Protection.
I felt my keys in my hand and instinctively put one through each finger, forming a make-shift weapon my father had shown me long ago, in case, God forbid, I ever needed it.
“Hi there,” he says, 10 feet away from us and coming closer, smiling. Grinning…?
Keys jabbed in my hand, eyes in Mama Bear lock mode on both the approaching man and the precise whereabouts down to the angle and distance out of arms reach of each of my children galloping about…
“Hello…” I hear myself say, voice tight. “…er…nice pumpkins you’ve got here.”
If there’s such a thing as calm panicked…
Calm: He’s a nice man. He just lives here, these are his pumpkins. Don’t freak out. This is okay. You’re just getting some pumpkins.
Panicked: We are on a country road. There is NO ONE around. He could gag me, drag us into that house…and NO ONE would see us. My phone is in the van. I never even called anyone to say we were going. NO ONE even knows we’re here!
Calm: You’re freaking out. This is fine. This is fine.
Panicked: A mama wolf, if she senses danger, does not teach her cubs to play courteous! I sense danger…Run, kids! Run until you find people! Stay together!
“You need a hand?” he asks.
My oldest has already slid the van door open, trying with difficulty to get her pumpkin inside as he walks toward her to help.
Keys in my hand, death grip.
…and the man helps load our pumpkins into the van.
…and I hand the very helpful, harmless man the $.
…and we left, completely fine.
—-
Do I even need to say that my family won’t be visiting any country locations solo at dusk on a whim to break the boredom without a second thought…like, ever again?
Probably not. What I need to say is this: That.
That feeling that kicked into my gut as that man approached me and my children.
That sense… that my children may be in danger.
That unexplainable determination – That knowing – that if some horribleness would really have taken place… my hand was gripped so tightly around those keys that I had indentations in my fingers, and I – I, who prefers mellow. I, who intends no harm. I, who takes deep breaths before even saying hurtful words, or at least tries to every single day – I was prepared to Attack.
I would have stabbed that man, gouged his eyes out. Kicked. Punched. Spat. Dug. Screeched. Screamed. Clawed to the very death, no doubt, if need be to defend and protect my children.
And You would have, too.
Because That… comes with being a Parent.
That instinct, That fierce love, That wicked protection in the eye of any storm.
Parents all have That.
JEN’S ZEN
And This:
“I got the biggest pumpkin!”
“Nu-uh. Mines’ is bigger than yours.”
“Mooooom! He said his pumpkin is bigger than miiiine!”
“Turn the radio back up!”
“Mooooooom! My stem broke…”
— Because the damn dishes are never done. Laundry is a cruel joke. And because children are beautiful lessons in Patience and Counting. 10, 9, 8, 7 Breathe…
Jen is a freelance writer, parent to three, and she’s been a stepparent for over 15 years. She is well-equipped to discuss and write about the great, and the not-so-great, details of all-things-parenting. Along with spending quality time with her family, Jen enjoys music, chocolate, camping and relaxing. And laughing!