The Scarlet Ibis
I knew. I knew that there was something different about me. I wasn't normal. I grew up knowing this; knowing that I was messed up. Or that's what people told me… said about me. It made me sad. To hear such things said about me…
When you're six years old… you don't think about being messed up. You think about playing in the fields or swimming in the lakes. Or playing with your brother. But my brother hates me. He doesn't love me. And I'm convinced that neither do my parents.
I was born with this. This thing that restricts me. It makes me mad that I'm like this. They think because I can't walk or do normal things that I'm stupid. But I'm not. I learn things. Fast. I can keep a picture in my head and remember it.
I can hear and understand what people say. I loved to talk. I couldn't shut up. But it gets lonely…. so lonely… when there's no one there to listen.
~The Scarlet Ibis~
"Come on."
"Where we goin'?" I asked, looking up at my older brother. I was propped up on the couch, staring at the wall blankly.
"I'm taking you somewhere."
"Where?"
"Are you coming or not?" He demanded.
"Help me up." I told him quietly. He picked me up and set me in my cart. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
"Bye mommy." I waved to her as we passed the kitchen. She ignored me, continuing her work. I kept my head down. "I love you mommy." He pushed the cart around, staring only what was in front of him. We were both quiet. Very quiet. I suddenly saw grass, tall green grass. There was mud and the cart sank a little, rocking as he forced it through the mud.
"We're almost there." He said, rolling through the mud. It splashed around, some hitting my cheek. I was too weak to wipe it away so I left it, not daring to ask for my brother to remove it for me. He brought me to a field of grass. It was beautiful. The perfect image. I gazed, my eyes widening in awe. And I began to cry. They weren't tears of sadness… but tears of joy and happiness. I sat there, letting the tears fall down my face.
"For heaven's sake, what's the matter?" He asked, annoyed.
"It's so pretty." I whispered. "So pretty, pretty, pretty…" He sighed and laid back in the grass.
"This is a secret. You can't tell anyone." He finally said after a while of silence.
"Why not?"
"Because." He sat up, staring me in the face.
"Because why?" I whispered to him.
"Because if you do I'll never take you here again. Ever. Do you want that?"
"Never ever?" I gasped.
"Never never."
"I don't want that." I told him quietly. "That would be terrible."
He stared at me again, and then suddenly brought his hand to my face. I closed my eyes in fear that he would strike me.
"Mud." He explained, wiping it away and rubbing it on the grass. I open my eyes and laughed.
~The Scarlet Ibis~
We went every day after that. We would gather flowers. Pretty flowers. He told me all the names. I remember each one, each one containing a picture in my head. A pretty pretty picture. We'd weave necklaces and crowns from the grass and drop them in the water, watching them wash away down the river. Some days he would be happy to take me to the swamp, and others, annoyed if I asked.
"Would you take me brother?" I begged him.
"Later." He grunted.
"Please. Pretty please?"
"I said later." He would shout.
He wasn't the best brother. But he took care of me. And he brought me up. How could I not love him? He was the only thing I had.
~The Scarlet Ibis~
"It's yours." He told me, pointing at a mahogany casket. We were inside the barn loft, staring at a mahogany box sized for a small infant. I stared at it for a while.
"It's not mine."
"It is." He said matter-of-fact. "And before I'll help you down from the loft, you're going to have to touch it."
My tiny body shook.
"I won't touch it." I said, crossing my arms.
"Then I'll leave you here by yourself." He hissed, making his way down the stairs. I become frightened at the moment. He would leave me. Leave me here all alone…
"Don't go leave me, brother." I cried out, my whole body shaking. I leaned toward the coffin and touched it, practically sobbing. I jumped onto him the moment he walked back over, crying and crying. "Don't leave me. Don't leave me."
~The Scarlet Ibis~
When I turned five, my brother had decided that it was time for me to learn to walk.
"I'm going to teach you to walk, Doodle." He told me, shifting a bit from his position is the grass we both knew so well.
"Why?" I asked him. Why?
"So I don't have to haul you around all the time." He sighed.
"I can't walk brother. I can't."
"Who says so?" He demanded.
"Mama, the doctor- everyone…" I answered quietly.
"Oh, you can walk." He sat up and grabbed me by the arms, forcing me to stand up. I fell immediately, hitting the ground with a hard thud.
"Don't hurt me Brother." I whined.
"Shut up. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to teach you to walk." He lifted me up again and again, each time ending with a failure and my small body falling to the floor.
"I just can't do it. Let's make honeysuckle wreaths."
"Oh yes you can Doodle." He said. "All you've got to do is try. Now come on." He hauled me up again. We would do this every day. Trying… and failing. I could tell he was getting frustrated. But we never gave up. We probably tired about a million times. Finally one day, after weeks of practicing, I stood alone for a few seconds. He grabbed me and wrapped me in his arms.
"You did it Doodle! You did it!"
"Yes… yes…" I cried. We decided to not tell anyone. Not yet. And we practiced more. Perfecting. And finally, when we couldn't wait any longer, we told everyone that we had a wonderful surprise that we would revel on my sixth birthday.
The day had finally come and we had everyone gathered. We made them promise to cross their hearts and hope to die if they even dared to peek. He helped me up and once I was standing, he let them look. It was dead quiet as I walked across the room and sat down at my place at the table. Mother started to cry and everyone was screaming with excitement.
"My baby my baby!" She squealed, squeezing me. "I'm so proud of you!"
~The Scarlet Ibis~
Brother thought of me as normal then. He told me of his plans of teaching me to swim, climb trees and to fight. We had believed, believed so much that it was possible that we set the deadline less than a year away. But we had a late start, Brother going to school and me being stuck in the house with a terrible cold. When spring rolled around, we were able to start.
He taught me to swim and how to row a boat. It was the summer of 1918 when it happened. A fierce hurricane struck the lands, leaving torn soaked land and soil behind. Father had gone out to the cotton fields, me and Brother staggering behind. He hit the ceiling with fury and cursed to the heavens.
School was only a few weeks away and we were nowhere near our goals. He pushed me further, working me twice as hard. I would sob from the pain the work left my body.
"Aw, come on Doodle." He urged. "You can do it. Do you want to be different from everyone else when you start school?"
"Does it make any difference?" I had given up.
"It certainly does." He told me. "Now come on." He helped me stand up. Each day I began to grow sick. I had trouble sleeping and nightmares found me each night.
It was that Saturday morning just a few days before school when it happened. It was lunch and we all sat at the table eating quietly. After a while, Father finally spoke. "It's so calm. I wouldn't be surprised if we had a storm this afternoon."
"I haven't heard a rain frog." Mother added.
"I did." I cut in. "Down in the swamp."
"Not he didn't." Brother said, chewing his food slowly and looking me in the eye.
"You did, eh?" Daddy said, trying to end something he knew was going to get started.
"I did too!" I yelled across the table. It was quiet once again. The silence was broken by a croaking nose. "What's that?"
Brother jumped up as well, knocking over my chair and reaching towards the door. I followed him and we were interrupted.
"Pick up the chair, sit down again, and say excuse me." Mother told us in a cold voice.
We both zoomed to our seats.
"Excuse me!" We both yelled and then ran out the door. Mother and Father followed. We heard the noise again and a large bright red bird walked towards us. It fluttered its feathers, falling over a bit.
"It's not even frightened of us." Mother gasped.
"It looks tired." Father commented. "Or maybe it's sick."
I stared at it with many emotions. "What… what is it?"
Father shook his head in confusion. "I don't know. Maybe it's a-" The bird flapped around, trying to spread its wings, failing and falling to the ground. It kicked around for a minute and slowed to a stop, wings lowered and eyes closed.
"It's… dead."
"What is it?"I asked again.
Father asked Brother to bring the bird book. He ran in and got it, emerging a minute later with the book. Father flipped through the pages, searching and searching for the answer. After a few minutes he came to a stop. "Aha!"
"What is it?" I said, leaning over his shoulder.
"A scarlet ibis. Apparently it lives in the Tropics- South America to Florida." I came to a conclusion at that moment.
"I'm going to bury him." I told them. Mother looked at me in shock.
"Don't you dare touch him! You don't know what diseases he could be infested with."
"I won't touch it." I said to her. The others left to go into the house, watching quietly behind the kitchen window. They hid, or at least they tried. I pulled out a piece of string from my pocket and tied it around its neck, dragging it slowly and carefully across the yard. I got a shovel and dug a hole big enough to hold the bird. I wondered then. Was this bird abandoned, left alone to die because it was too slow to keep up?
I kept digging, finally making a hole big enough. And I dragged him into the hole and piled the dirt on top of it, letting out a sigh and wiping the sweat from my forehead. Whistling a song the while. A sad song at that…
