Sunday 1 June 2014

Story 29 - Bears

I’ve always been scared of bears. Ever since I was a kid. There was this TV programme for us younger viewers which had a sketch with a bear jumping around trying to catch a bunch of children who were running away smiling and screaming and it was all meant to be humorous I think. The bear was a guy in a costume. People, adults, would come out to hit the bear on the head with bats and he’d stumble around dizzily, crazily, and as I think back now I’m sure it was supposed to be wildly amusing. But to me it was terrifying.

My mum locked me out the house. In the back garden to think about what I’d done. She needed a break from my unruliness, my energy, whatever it was, and I was standing there by the kitchen door, standing on the patio alone. A bear was coming around the corner. It would be here any moment. I could hear it, feel its presence. Bear footsteps, growling, and I was banging on the door screaming for my mother to open up and save me.

There I am, shouting for help over and over again in a complete fit of panic until finally she unlocked the door and I was in her arms crying about the bear that was trying to eat me. And my mother was my mother again, telling me not to worry and that I was being silly, reassuring me that of course there was no bear; how could a bear be in our back garden?

But she let me in too. In no time at all I had her love back - I remember being given a yoghurt, or some such treat from the fridge and being allowed to stay in the kitchen, sat on a chair behind her while she finished off the dinner and washing up.