Behind the Shed

My grandmother always used to tell me, "Never go behind that shed." When I was too young to question what she told me, I obeyed her. Her caveat gave the building a mysterious, titillating presence. Before breaking the rules was thrilling, the closest I'd come to going behind that shed was stepping inside of it. I remember the first time I went in there like it was yesterday. The inside of the shed was as disheveled as the outside rotten and crumbling. There were tools scattered about that were once made of metal, but were now so oxidized that it looked like they'd disintegrate with a rusty cough if you touched them. The floor was a smooth, compressed dirt that felt almost cold underneath my bare feet. I was initially blinded by the darkness and relieved by the cool air in this tomb-like building. Once my eyes adjusted to the lack of summer sunlight and I took in the state of the place, I grew chilly. The air that was cool and refreshing mere minutes before was now stagnant. It felt wrong being in there, even though I wasn't exactly behind the shed. But the more I went in there, the less daring it seemed. As I grew older, the shed no longer towered ominously above me as it had before and I was more eager to question my grandmother's authority, though I'd not yet disobeyed my grandmother's wishes.

"Nan, how come you always tell me never to go behind that shed? I been inside it before, you know," I reported bravely.

"Oh?" said Nan, half-intrigued, half-unconcerned.

"Uh huh, and it ain't no big deal. It ain't even like it's scary ... well, not anymore." Nan chuckled. "Really, though! Why don't you want me back there?"

"First of all, it isn't a big deal and it isn't scary and I suppose you've got a point, Lita. Regardless, I have very good reasons for forbidding you from going back there," Nan explained, expertly dodging the question.

My annoyance grew exponentially - I hated it when my Nan talked and didn't actually say anything. "Naa-aaan! Come on! Just tell me already," I persisted, determined to get an answer.

"You wouldn't understand, hon. Now go read or play or do something. Nan's gotta hang the laundry and get dinner started." She turned her back and darted out of the room, muttering to herself about the mountain of chores she had left for the day.

I angrily crossed my arms in front of my chest and seethed with the injustice of it all. Why should she withhold information from me just because I'm a little kid. She'd say things like, "Knowledge is power, dear," in one instant and, in the next, she'd blatantly ignoring my questions. Brushing me off like a pest, telling me to go play - it was really the dismissal that I couldn't stand. Fine! She told me to go play, so I might as well go play behind the shed.

I stepped out of my Nan's house and headed for the shed with a purpose I'd never felt before. As I deliberately walked past the entrance of that slipshod shack, I thought about how strong a hold it had over me. This rotten thing, this crumbling boundary. I hesitated as I approached the corner of that tiny building. It marked the border of back-of-the-shed and not-back-of-the-shed territory. I pressed forward, anxious to take that last step, when I heard "Liiiiiiiiita Marie! You get your tiny, willful little behind over here right this instant!" I turned, with my heart in my throat, to see my Nan barreling toward me in a red-faced rage.

"What did I just tell you?! You are not to go back there," she huffed as she swatted my behind. "You march yourself right back into that house and go to your room, young lady! I swear, the NERVE of that child ..." She trailed off in an incomprehensible string of gripes.

I headed back for the house with my heart pounding inside my ears. "The time is not right" I said to myself. "But it will be soon."