Thursday, September 10, 2009

Always Trust Your Gut

I remember one particular summer afternoon as a kid, I think I was about seven and we were going to visit to my Great Aunt Alice's house for her birthday. I remember it was a really hot day and I had been very busy playing dress-up before we left the house until I heard my mother holler that we were going to be late. I had removed all the play clothes I was wearing except for the high heeled shoes I had on. I clopped down the stairs as my mother continued to hurry us kids out of the house.

"Are you gonna wear those?" My mother asked with a frown. "Yeah." I said. "They're too big for your feet, but we're late, oh forget it, just get in the car." She said in an annoyed tone. I was about to clomp my way out to the car when my mother said as an after thought, "I need you to carry the blueberry pie." "Okay." I said and held out my hands. My mother looked down at my feet and looked at her perfectly baked pie. "Are you sure you can carry this with those shoes on?" She asked. My mother knew all too well that I was the biggest tangle foot you had ever seen and this was looking like a recipe more for disaster than for pie. "Yeah, I can do it, Mom!" I said emphatically. "I won't fall." She reluctantly handed me the pie, but I could tell her gut instinct was against me. "Humph. I'll show her." I thought to myself. I carefully made my way out the door, eyeballing the pie in my hands with every clomppy step I took.

You would believe I actually made it?

We piled into the blue station wagon and I sat in the front seat with the pie on my lap. Then I think my mother went to hand me something else and so I had to put the pie on the floor in front of me. We were just about to leave and I don't know why or how it happened, but the next thing I knew I forgetfully managed to shove the heal of that shoe straight down into the pie. I gasped loudly. I looked over at my mother and she looked wide eyed at me. Then we both looked down at the shoe that was now in her no-longer-perfect-pie. I started to cry even before the yelling started. I felt terrible. She asked me to do a simple job and I blew it. The thing is, I always seemed to blow it. I was klutz of monumental proportions as a child. I knew she worked really hard on that pie and I felt so badly that it was all my fault because now it was wrecked. "Colleen! How could you?!" She said loudly. "I'm sorry Mom!" I wailed as big crocodile tears flung out of my eyes like a cartoon character.

But it was too late. There was no going back. We were late. The pie was a mess and we had to go. I continued to cry as we drove off and my mother wistfully told me to stop it.

I guess it's just one of those things, you know? It was a small incident, but I'll never forget the look of hesitation on my mother's face as she sized me up in those great big high heels against her pie.

Lesson learned that day?...Always trust your gut.

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