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{"id":1468,"date":"2012-09-18T16:13:10","date_gmt":"2012-09-18T16:13:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/?p=1468"},"modified":"2012-09-18T18:23:40","modified_gmt":"2012-09-18T18:23:40","slug":"0712012-digger","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/?p=1468","title":{"rendered":"071\/2012 Digger"},"content":{"rendered":"

Word Count:\u00a0 662<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, you just can\u2019t play here anymore,\u201d I said. He looked at me without saying a word.<\/p>\n

\u201cReally,\u201d I persisted, trying to ignore the large lump of bad I felt hanging around me. I hated being forced into acting like the Wicked Witch of the West. It wasn\u2019t fair. But this was the third time I\u2019d asked the boy not to dig on my property. He had a red plastic beach shovel and pail. I hadn\u2019t said anything the first couple of times hoping he\u2019d give up and go away. This was the reason I was so happy to move out of the city. Thrilled to finally be able to own my own home on two acres of land.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere do you live?\u201d I asked and he pointed down the road. \u201cThe yellow house?\u201d and he nodded. \u201cWhy are you playing here? You have a nice big yard of your own and you probably shouldn\u2019t be crossing the street. It\u2019s not safe.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLookin\u2019 for my mom,\u201d he said. He wouldn\u2019t look at me and he stood there with the shovel and pail hanging down.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe isn\u2019t here,\u201d I said, \u201cbut why don\u2019t you play in your own yard. You really shouldn\u2019t be digging up here.\u201d<\/p>\n

He left and I felt horrid. I\u2019ve never had strong maternal instincts, never been one to be awed by other people\u2019s kids. But I\u2019m not a bad person, I\u2019d never be mean to a child. I just don\u2019t know how to talk with them, I suppose. How to play games or join in. I always felt awkward, as if I were trying too hard.<\/p>\n

Three days later I came home to find him digging in my yard again. He looked up as I drove in the driveway. Skulked off before I got out of the car. I did stall, it\u2019s true, pretending to gather up my purse and things before I opened the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you just talk to his parents?\u201d was the suggested tactic from several people at work. But I was new to the neighborhood. Didn\u2019t want to start off by complaining. No one had brought over fresh homemade brownies when I moved in so it didn\u2019t look like the friendliest group. Which was fine; I\u2019d wanted privacy. I\u2019m sure they\u2019d help out if needed, as I would be willing to do.<\/p>\n

I never saw him there again but it was obvious he was still digging in an area a few feet inside my property line. It\u2019s where I wanted to put in a garden and thought maybe I should start on it right away. Maybe he wouldn\u2019t be so determined if he saw it was carefully tended and not an abandoned far edge of the lawn.<\/p>\n

It was a sunny September Saturday morning. One wheelbarrow full of sod and the dirt piled to the side. Hostas and pachysandra and a little Japanese maple waited patiently as I dug up the soil in a fairly straight line. I looked up and the boy was watching me.<\/p>\n

I felt guilty so I waved him on over. He stood shyly looking into the trench as I dug. \u201cYou can help, if you want,\u201d I told him. It made me feel kind of good. We dug side by side for a few minutes when my shovel struck stone.<\/p>\n

He looked up at me, then back down at the soil.<\/p>\n

\u201cPirate treasure!\u201d I said. A perfect example of why I don\u2019t do well with kids. It was a piece of quartz or mica, most likely. I just hoped it was pretty enough to pass as some sort of treasure.<\/p>\n

He got down on his hands and knees in the dirt and started uncovering the rock with his fingers. Then he stopped, stood up and I was startled to see tears well up in his eyes. I looked down and saw the obvious round creaminess of bone. \u201cMa,\u201d he whispered. And I hugged him as hard as I could.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Word Count:\u00a0 662 \u201cLook, you just can\u2019t play here anymore,\u201d I said. He looked at me without saying a word. \u201cReally,\u201d I persisted, trying to ignore the large lump of bad I felt hanging around me. I hated being forced … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[18,15],"tags":[25,24],"class_list":["post-1468","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-100-days-2012","category-horror","tag-100-days-2012","tag-horror"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1468","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1468"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1468\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1472,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1468\/revisions\/1472"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1468"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1468"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/susangibb.net\/blog3\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1468"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}