rattlesnake/creek

Mind you, this was before they invented time, labor, or fear. Before
          the creek dried up it was all
mine, as was the apple tree, the wide field, the swing set. It all was
          mine, so I stepped without
looking at the grass which my velcro tennis shoes flattened. No one
          had told me that it is not the
things in the distant world that are worthy of your fear, but the things
          right outside your door,
such as the rattlesnake which would not make itself known with a
          rattle even when I accidentally
straddled it with the scraped legs God only blesses little girls who
          were made wrong with. My
dad would swoop in from behind me and scoop me up, rushing me
          away from the creature, from
the venom, from the world in which I never turned seven in the
          middle of a snowy December at
the birthday party where bloody mary trapped my best friend in the
          bathroom. But this was
before that, the rattlesnake still off in the distant woods, yet to be
          shot and skinned and kept in
the garage, and I was shoeless in the creek. The creek which came
          from under the ground and
returned under the ground thirty yards after. I could have sworn
          there were fairies there, I could
have sworn that they left gifts for me. The apple tree would bless me
          daily with two small hard
good apples, one for myself, one to leave for the fairies, the bees
          would sting me and I would
cry, (this was before I had learned to cry silently) the swingset would
          lift me up and at the top of
my swing the sun would engulf me and tell me to watch where I
          step. Don’t call me in for
supper, there;s still so much to do. This was before I knew of sickness and began washing my
hands thirty times a day, before I begged to be taken to the doctor
          because having a body meant
there was something wrong with it, before I would cry about the
          toxins in my plastic toys. This
was, of course, before all that. The fear, as with everything else,
          would come later.