Me...on Mimi's stairs after a trip to The Crying Corner
Here's an essay for you, a funny little piece I wrote a while ago. Hope you are full of love and passion. I pray that you have all the things that I want. Love, C.A.
The Crying Corner
When I was little, every Sunday, we had family gatherings at Mimi's house. The numbers were always large, as there were a ton of cousins (and sometimes random kids) running around. During the summers, we played Pickle in the side yard, searched for arrowheads in the back yard (we did find some), hid in Mimi's massive trees, swam in Mimi's pool, roamed around through the house's haunted third floor (my favorite activity), or we just stole stuff from Mimi's kitchen. There was always something edible around, and weirdly, it was certain food that we only ate when we were there. I associated Mimi's with jelly beans, nuts, American Cheese slices, and other random oddities that she always had, such as hard-boiled eggs and Fresca (Grandpa used to drink Fresca, and she bought it long after he died).
Due all of the weird food consumption and heavy playing, some kid would inevitably start crying.
Maybe there was an argument over the number of buckeyes Michael and Casey found. Or Matt might steal that last white jelly bean, something of the sort. Someone was always crying. At Mimi's, the punishment for needless crying was that we had to go to "The Crying Corner."
The Crying Corner was a designated corner in the dining room. It was on the left, the first corner of the room that appeared after leaving the kitchen's swinging doors, and whenever I even glanced at that corner, I felt a strange, horrible dread. It was as if the wall itself held on to years of tears. It sure was dark in that corner; for some reason, the window light never quite reached that section of the room. And on top of that, the worn-out, shoe-flattened dining room carpet was an ominous, dark green color.
Crying kids had to stand on that evil carpet and face The Crying Corner until the crying was over.
And when we were sent there, we stayed there, crying at the wall, because whatever Mimi said was absolute law.
It never occurred to me that at any time I could just turn around and leave The Crying Corner. No one ever realized that we could escape at any time. We just stood there and cried at the wall. No one even watched me to make sure I stayed in The Crying Corner, but once I was sent there -- and this goes for everyone who was sent there -- I never left until I was done crying. Even after I gained my composure, I still stood there staring at the wall, knowing I couldn't leave until Mimi (or some adult who had sent me there) would come over and ask me this: "Are you done crying?"
If I could keep a straight face and answer, "Yes," then I could leave. That was it. All that was needed was an end to the crying, as well as the "okay" from whoever was in charge. There had to be both key elements in play, or I knew I couldn't leave.
And I never, ever saw anyone break that rule.
Of course, at a certain age, we all grew out of The Crying Corner. Not sure how that was decided either. It wasn't like we graduated from it -- no, no -- it was more like an unspoken peace treaty.
After that, if we were bad, we had to sit in "Time Out" like the rest of the world, which was boring as hell, and very underrated. I mean, once we'd been to The Crying Corner, Time Out was cake. If Time Out didn't work, there was always Mimi's haunted third floor. I guess I didn't learn much, though, because just this past week I got in trouble for being "disruptive" in a group, and I'm still not sure if I learned my lesson, but I did have a strange craving for Mimi's jelly beans.
C.A. MacConnell
