ANOTHER WORLD CREATED
By Bernadette G. Legos
This was my first world and I knew it well. It was, after all, the only one I had ever lived in. Its name was Smithtown. Not complex, it was also inhabited by my three brothers Jack, Danny, and Gene. I was the youngest; five years old and comfortable with what each day brought. My parents, the Creators, had provided everything for me to enjoy. I knew they hadn’t made the seasons; someone greater than themselves had done that. But of all those changing days, summer days were the most spectacular. This was my Garden of Eden. I existed tempted only by adventures and secret rituals.
Between the endless sky and the edge of the hill my world bordered on, wheat fields and a potato farm stretched farther than I could see. Down a dirt road stood a migrant shack with a water pump. I, along with my brothers, thrilled at the icy water tumbling out when we banged that handle up and down. I always loved that part. Great excitement occurred when we struggled to speed through green rows and disappear in the woods. A monster dog and man would find us on the farm sometimes. Approaching yells and barking signaled we had to leave at once.
And leave we did. We escaped through the woods, caught our breath, and followed our carved out trail down to the railroad tracks. They gleamed from the back of our town to the next. Sooner or later a train would be coming. I knew by the sound of the whistle and the ritual pulling down of our pants. Yes, as the passengers barely noticed my world, we mooned them. I feel certain some of them were not sure what they saw; only that it came in four shapes and sizes. I was sworn to tell no one or that part of my world would be sealed off to me. This was a hilarious secret ritual only we would share and laugh at years later.
Summers were sticky with heat and melted ice cream. I sprawled in the front yard catching bugs, playing make up games, and planning my next day’s adventure. My father came home from work on one of those days to announce we were going to venture out the next morning. He and my mother would transport us to somewhere called “The East End”. We would go in the Buick Chariot. How could it be possible another world existed besides mine? Would I clamor in the car to finally get there or peek out the window suspicious of a strange land I was moving toward?
Another world did exist. One unlike any I had ever seen. As we approached the entrance to it in Flanders, I saw the largest duck in any world! It had an opening like a cave. I hesitated; then plunged in. What wonders to behold! Ducks, now plucked naked had left a gazillion eggs. I knew a golden egg had to be hidden there. My mother often read to me from my “Bible of Fairy Tales”. It was inside this Monster Duck but where?
Now I was unable to sit still. What would appear next deep into this East End? My father drove a bit further; steered the Buick Chariot into a parking area. Brilliant colors and shapes gleamed from a shop window. We walked to the back of this earthbound rainbow where men stood blowing their breath into long pipes. Crystal balloons that didn’t fly but didn’t pop either came out from the ends! Blues, greens, reds, and colors of a depth only the Creator of this world could have conjured up.
Afterwards, much of what I saw became familiar. The East End also had farmlands with Sod farms and agricultural produce being drenched by big hoops of spinning water. Just when I thought there was no difference, the family Buick stopped. We walked towards the Sag Harbor Whaling Museum. Inside were creatures so huge only a magnificent Creator could have dreamed that big. The walls were covered in photos of a ruler of the seas; models of sailing ships and Harpoons that searched for him in the water. Sailors had carved many shapes and stories from the bones of this ocean King and called this Scrimshaw. When we were ready to leave, I walked out the door backwards, never letting my eyes turn from the splendor.