The Chalk Line

(found this in my file of notes today)

     This morning, April 25, 1998, I realized at 7:30 in the morning, that a lot of my life has been lived in terms of the chalk line. The chalk line was drawn for me by my father probably 45 years ago. He sat me down, along with my two older sisters and drew a single line on the blackboard we used for games, after the religious instructions we received at 'Family Night.'  We children endured the lectures, but looked forward to 'Hangman' and dessert. On this particular night, Mother was absent as she was suffering from one of her frequent headaches, which made her dizzy and landed her in bed. The three of us were aware of the many things that triggered Mom's 'spells.' One of them was the way the neighbors burned their smelly garbage, making Mom sick because she had an extra sensitive nose (she was extra-sensitive in many ways) and anything that bothered Mom gave her a headache. We could always tell when a headache was ruling. Mom would get that pursed-lipped, furrowed-brow, set look and often she would tap her foot impatiently. On this Monday night, after the line was drawn (which obviously was not for Hangman because it was long and uninterrupted), Father began talking in extra subdued tones.

     "Do you see this line running all across the chalkboard?"  he asked. He leaned forward and looked at the three of us.

     "Yes, Daddy, we see it."
    "Kitty, do you remember when you chased Misty Gray Mouser all around the yard and caught her by the tail?"

    Of course I remembered. It was a startling event. When Daddy saw me waving the screaming feline around by the tail, he quickly scooped my bottom up with one of his enormous hands, releasing the cat, and waved me in the air by my bottom.

     "Do you see how this feels? This is how that poor cat must feel." The grip was so tight and the position of my body so unusual that I was sure I would always remember it.

     "I remember, Daddy," I answered." I held my head down, feeling shaky and sick to my stomach, just like I did after my bottom was plucked up into the air and spanked.

    Daddy picked up the eraser and erased part of the line. "Kristy, do you remember spitting out your whole dinner last night?"

    Kristy didn't say anything. She was timid and sensitive. She was also a fussy eater. Again, Daddy erased part of the line. When he came to Carolyn, Daddy just looked at her and said, "We both know what you did, don't we?" She nodded. He erased more of the line.

     There was a meaningful pause.  "This line is your Mother's life, and this is what happens when you misbehave." He erased the rest of the chalk line. We all sat in silence.

    Now, forty-five years later, I feel the impact of that statement and my whole life in connection to it. Maybe turning fifty has made me more contemplative.

     "What the f---!"  Saying these words would definitely shorten Mother's life if I said them out loud in her presence, and yet I have always done largely what I've wanted to do, not because I wish my mother's life diminished, but because I am in awe of how life just keeps going on, even when I defy family rules. People don't die when you upset them. People die on their own terms and how others view their lives has only the impact they choose......and yet, there is something in me that really believes people's lives are shortened if I displease them. Maybe they don't die, but something in them does. How else can I explain staying in unhealthy relationships way beyond the expiration date?
( am I still dealing with the chalk line?)