Hopeful Problem Solving

If you couldn't tell from the below post, I'm still having problems with my creative writing assignment. I feel like this should be easy for me -- I mean, this is my thing.

But... not everything is easy... so...

I flipped open my text book and found an exercise that asks me to remember childhood moments and think about what parts of the memory are vivid and why. Also, why do I still remember that memory as a whole? Why does the experience stick out?

So... here we go...

When I was about 13, my Dad got mad at me for getting mad at him. Looking back at many times when I got mad at my Dad, I wince and think 'man, I was being a total bitch' because my Dad is actually one of the best people on this planet. BUT, there's a few memories that I still look back at -- to this day -- and I still think that he was in the wrong. I guess parents can't be perfect all the time.

Anyways, as my punishment, my Dad told me that I had to take the bus home from summer day camp. He usually picked me up -- he worked about three minute drive from where I was at camp. I'm not sure what he thought this punishment would accomplish. Other than terrifying me. This might sound silly, but I'd never taken the bus alone. My parents lived outside of town and I was driven everywhere. I'd probably taken the bus with friends in the city and with my mom when I was very young, but never on my own.

The night before my bus trip, I was absolutely freaked out. My Dad insisted that I would be fine. He told me to walk to Main Street and get on any bus with an 18 on it. It'd take me out to the highway and I'd have to walk the rest of the way.

So. I walk to Main Street. Get on a bus with '18' on it. The thing is... there's about four #18 buses and they all go to different places. I remember that the one I was on turned and headed down to the rink where I figure skated. Hmm. Interesting. I got off the bus because it was now headed into unknown territory and by getting off at the rink, I at least had a vague idea of where I was. I walked up to Main Street (once again) and started walking home.

I think my Dad found me a couple hours later, still shuffling down Main Street. I'm pretty sure I had just hit the highway. When I failed to arrive home, he checked the bus schedule and realized that there were multiple #18 routes.

I know it might not seem that horrible... but I was miserable by the time he picked me up. He actually had to drive beside me for a good couple minutes before I would even look at him and get into the car. And I have to say, up to that point, I'd never seen him look so guilty.

I know this might sound like a pampered princess story, but it holds up one of the laws of parenting that I think every parent should follow: Never, ever use fear as a punishment. My Dad knew how genuinely scared I was of that bus ride. It never should have been used as a punishment.

So... why does this memory stick out to me? Because it was one of the few times that I felt truly betrayed by my dad (and that makes me a very lucky kid). My dad was usually the rational one, but that time, he made a bad parenting decision. Usually, those were reserved for my mother. It sticks out because it's so the opposite of how he usually parented.

What sticks out about the memory? I still remember exactly what I was wearing -- black shorts and a red t-shirt. My Dad had the top down on his car. I stopped at McDonalds and spent the money I should have used on a pay phone - but I was too angry to call my Dad - and bought an Oreo McFlurry. It was really hot and my backpack was sticking to my back and t-shirt with sweat. Oh, and my dad picked me up from camp for the rest of the summer :P