Thursday, March 31, 2011
Feel The Heat
Whitney Houston, when she sang “I wanna dance with somebody”, was speaking to my five year old soul. I really didn’t understand what it meant to “feel the heat with somebody” but I knew I wanted to do it. There were a few staple performers that “got me”; MJ (of course), Madonna, The Judds and Whitney Houston.
I used to dance around my house to these artists. I would get up on tables and pretend it was my stage and sing, “Momma He’s Crazy”. I would wear one glove and walk around with my MJ doll, trying to moon walk across our living room. When “I wanna dance with somebody” came on the tv, I went nuts. I remember thinking, as I danced in front of the screen “Whitney understands me.” Plus, no one wears blue eyeshadow like Whitney.
At five, my greatest wish was to be a rock-star/movie-star and I desperately wanted to “feel the heat with somebody”. I would hope and pray he would come one day. My best friend at the time was a boy that lived down the street from my family. We did everything together and he would let me boss him around to my hearts content. Life was certainly good and I had everything going for me. I was five and I had a kindergardener doing my bidding. Within a few short weeks he asked me to marry him. I told him no, he still lives with his mother. His reply, “I’ll build us a house.” Sure enough, a week later he did build a house, in a tree in his backyard. We would play everyday in that little tree house. He showed me where the kitchen was going to be and our bedroom. We hung pretend photos of us up on the walls. I had the sweet taste of freedom and what it would be like to live somewhere without my brothers and sisters bothering me.
Later that month, while playing hide and seek with my family and my make believe husband, I ran into a bit of trouble. We were hiding in the bushes together, kneeling down on the ground. I turned to him and smiled as I saw my brother’s feet pass by us. He took his 7 year old hands and grabbed my head and kissed me on the lips. In shock, I did what any lady would do in my position, I punched him in the face, stepped on his foot and ran away. As I ran out from the bushes my brother was there to tag me “it”. My soon to be ex-husband came running out of the bushes telling everyone we kissed. He told my whole family the big news and that we’re going to get married. I was so mad at him and didn’t speak to him for a whole day. I would have gone longer with the silent treatment but he was putting in a phone and a tv in the tree house later that weekend and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch whatever tv show I wanted.
Obviously, at 5, I wasn’t ready to feel the heat with my 7 year old next door neighbor. Although, it would seem he sure was ready to feel the heat with me. I don’t remember his name, which makes me sad. Within six months of him building the tree-house he moved away with his mother to California. He said he would send for me but he never did. For a few months, I would go over to where he used to live, knock on the door in hopes he came back. He was never there, some creepy old man moved in. I came to my senses and I found myself having to pick up the pieces. My little heart was broken. I found myself in kindergarten and nervous about making new friends. To my delight I had a whole new batch of boys to play house with. Some even loved being bossed around and would share their milk with me.
The moral of the story is, when one door closes, keep your eyes open for an open window. When you least expect it, comes happiness.