When I was three, I ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. I had to stay there for a long time because my mother had her first psychological break in the mean time, and with her being in the hospital and my dad at work, there was nowhere really for me to go. (It just now occured to me that my uncle or my grandfather might have taken me in. Hmph.) Sharing my room were two cute boys who were about five. They were sweet and we all became good friends fast. There was one dark haired one and one blond. The blond had a toy airplane, one of those balsawood and paper airplanes, that he loved dearly.
I felt pretty lonely in the hospital, no stream of visitors for me, those boys were really important to me, they were my first true loves. We shared that room for at least two weeks, an eternity in three year old time.
One day my grandfather sent me a box of caramel candy. I savored every candy, but shared some with my boys. For some reason, (remember I was three)I really, really, wanted the last candy in particular. As the box was almost empty, the blond begged me for more candy. I said no, because then I wouldn't get the last. He begged me again. No. I will give you my airplane to play with, he flew it over to my bed. I don't want your stupid airplane, I said. I flew it back to him.
A big fight ensued.
The next day, the nurses moved my two sweet boys to another room and I never saw them again. I'll never know if the two were related, but I always wanted to replace that airplane.
Making my journal available for dirty haikus yesterday. I was grinning ear to ear all afternoon.