The summer I turned eight
the house next door’s attic morphed into a bat haven.
At the brink of dark, neighbors converged in our front yard, sat in lawn chairs, the kind with woven straps, talked, waited for furred bodies to swoop out the vent. I don’t recall final tallies but remember the soft whir of wings when everyone quieted. Or do I only imagine that sound, how anything dark and woolly that flew or scurried terrified me?
The seat of those braided chairs crosshatched marks on my legs, and I hated their hot rosin stench.
A few years later, that same neighbor’s house caught fire when the children spilled detergent near the furnace. Miraculously, no one was burned, but the house suffered major damage. Firetrucks arrived as people gathered in our front yard, then moved across the street to witness the blaze. I overheard adults predict our home would catch, the structures so close.
The acrid burnt smell lasted months, more intense on windy days. The family left while their home was restored—six months—long as I obsessed over how to flee if a fire skittered upstairs to our dorm-room.
As I tried to fall asleep, I brooded my hatched plan: snatch flat sheet from bed, tie one corner on window crank, throw remainder out window, climb chair, ease out clutching cotton, lower to safety. I’m oldest. If it worked, my three sisters could follow. I’d coach, clasp them when they came within reach.
I still dream escapes out windows of tall buildings—chased by flames or assassins. So far, I’ve reached ground, pivoted, propelled into flight.
12 thoughts on "The summer I turned eight"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Great story of how a childhood event can affect the rest of our life.
Thank you, Jim!
I love your story telling abilities and the way that first line pulled me into it.
Thank you!
Tracing that first event at 8 years through til today!
Love this, Karen! And we’ve watched bats swoop from our eaves, too. I especially liked the sounds, verbs and energy in your escape description. See you soon!
Thank you, Nancy!
I love the idea of a bat haven! We saw bats one year at Carlsbad Caverns, and it was a stunning site.
I hated their hot rosin stench. – Just one of so many imaginative lines!
How wonderful to have an escape plan, then circle back to flight (like bats) at the end. Just beautiful!
Thank you, Sylvia!
I really enjoyed the movement of this poem beginning and ending with flight
Shaun, thank you!
This is so great, Karen! The bats! The chairs! The fire! I have this bizarre childhood dream that I’ve carried with me my whole life, too. It’s one of those things that I’ve written about but haven’t quite captured yet. I also imagined (while awake) how I would save my family. Isn’t that funny? Maybe this is a common childhood thing, but I’ve never heard anyone else talk about it until you!