Robbers

My grandma's 95th birthday is tomorrow so I was thinking about her this morning and this came to mind.  She has those stories that she loves to tell about us grandkids over and over and over.  This is one about me that I happen to recall...although it may be more vivid in my mind because she reminds me of it so often.

As a child (and sometimes an adult) I was afraid of robbers.  Funny thing too because I really wanted to be a police officer...maybe it was because I thought that might help my fears?? 

My grandparent's home is at the end of a dead-end road.  There are good things about that and not-so-good things.  People were always coming down that road only to realize it was a dead-end and then turning around.  I can't recall a particular instance when it was a real problem or when something scary happened, but it made me nervous.

The west bedroom is where the grandkids slept and it was closest to the lane.  All night long, I could see the glare of the pole light in the window and it kept me awake.  My grandpa was obsessed with clocks of all sorts.  The clock radio on the bedstand had the loudest tick-tock.  My mind would get fixated on that.  The chime of the grandfather clock was rather eery for me as a child.  I wasn't used to hearing tit and it spooked me a little (even as an adult it drove me crazy at night).  These things caused my mind to race...and stir up fear.

This one particular night I was staying at my grandma and grandpa's house, I got scared.  I was just sure there were robbers outside and I could not shake it.  Finally, I couldn't help myself and I grabbed my pillow and a blanket and I crept into grandma's room.  I made myself a pallet at the end of their bed and got comfy.  I was pretty sure I had been quiet and they would never know.  I would slip back into my bed before they woke up.

Next thing I know I hear Grandma say "Sarah Beth, is that you?"  "Yes."  "What are you doing down there?"  "I'm afraid of the robbers..."  She just laughed and went back to sleep.  And I have never lived that one down.

My son, now nine, has trouble getting to sleep every now and then and ends up in a pallet on our bedroom floor near the bed.  It drives Jay and I nuts, but really, what can I say?