I remember the time when I was four years old and Mr. Stafford had just painted our shutters propped on sawhorses in the yard.
I remember my mother saying, “Elizabeth, don’t go near those!”
I remember wondering what would happen if I did. I needed to find out. I needed to go outside on that sunny day and inspect the newly primed grey shutters while Mr. Stafford sat in his car eating lunch.
I remember my long blonde hair clinging to the shutters and the sticky feeling on my hands when I touched my hair.
I remember the look of distress and confusion on my mother’s face and the flurry of activity around something I didn’t really understand.
I remember the smell of turpentine.
And, I remember defying authority.
by Elizabeth, 66. Perth, WA