The Carpet Machine and Other Conjured Devices  

rm_rsp54 59F
892 posts
1/26/2006 6:35 am

Last Read:
2/12/2007 9:55 am

The Carpet Machine and Other Conjured Devices

This title is rather puzzling, So, I will start by saying that this is a little segment of a childhood memory. I was watching my nephew's two children yesterday and marvelled at their happiness. Children are so resilient, and very optomistic. They love freely, only asking your acceptance and a little acknowledgment. When I was a kid, I got very little of either of these things. I was a lonely child in a very crowded household.

Often, I cannot remember where I put my cell phone, but I have vivid memories of most childhood events. I can remember exactly what I wore on my first day of school(it was first grade, mind you I didn't do kindergarten.) I can remember the layout of our tiny house. I can remember the tear stained corner where I had to stand if I was "bad". Then there are the things I try not to remember.

I always felt invisible as a child. I was the youngest of seven. My mother told me many times that they had long given away all of the baby stuff before I was born. Not exactly saying that I was unwanted, but more or less intimating it. I always felt that I had to be extra good because I was a burden to my family. I did what I was told. I never touched other people's stuff. I never made much noise and spoke to my parents when they spoke to me first. Not exactly the idyllic childhood wrote about in many stories, heh?

To remedy my lonliness and isolation, I created my own world. I had an entire family of imaginary friends. I was the only one to see or sense them. I did not take it to extremes. They couldn't be sat on by others or even offended by others. They were mine and mine alone. They lived in the corner of my kitchen in a little alcove. We conversed for hours on end. They played with me in my yard. They let me read them stories. They missed me if I didn't greet them first thing in the morning.

This imaginary family ran a business out of my kitchen. They had a carpet machine. It was a hand cranked contraption. When children were bad, they would end up being given to my friends, placed in the machine, and converted to rag rugs. Very bizarre thought, for a child. My siblings would tease me to tears about this matter. I was steadfast in my support of this cottage industry. I even wondered who the rugs on my kichen floor used to be.

This family did not move away, but simply faded away as I got older and made real friends. The imagination, used to conjure up such friends, is still with me. It is a valuable coping tool in times of stress and depression.

So, If you knew some really bad assed kid, and are wondering what happened to them; try aisle five of the home furnishings department!

bobbydazzler69x 48M

1/26/2006 11:28 am

A touching read, Rose. Nicely done.

rm_FreeLove999 48F
16127 posts
2/7/2006 12:03 pm


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