My sister and I must have had the weirdest sense of humor growing up. We were always coming up with this game or that game to play. We didn't really care for the traditional games of hide and seek, red rover or red light, green light. We decided that we were going to be pirates. It was a game that we played and enjoyed. She took on the role of the pirate while I was to be the town person with all the riches. She always got the best parts.
We would go to our rooms and choose the things we were going to use for treasure. After gathering everything together we would carry it all downstairs to the backyard. My sister would then pull her sword, an old small tree limb, from her belt and demand the treasure from me. Jabbing the sword at me she would shout, "Give me your treasure and I will let you live." Being the ever fearing town person I would gather some treasure and carry it to her ship, our backyard swing set. While I was loading her treasure she would let out this fierce cackle and say, "Be gone with you." I would go back to minding what was left of the town riches. Where she came up with those words, I will never know. She was 6 and I was 7.
One day, we both decided that we were tired of playing pirates. We liked the idea of the treasure so we were off in search of what would be our treasure. Dolls, books, stuffed animals and old purses was only for pirates so the real thing was what we needed.
Searching through our jewelry boxes we gathered our cracker jack rings and anything that sparkled. As we were heading out the back door, my sister said, "Grab some spoons." "What for?", I said. With an evil grin on her face she exclaimed, "For digging, dummy. You can't be a treasure hunter without a shovel." I opened the drawer that mom had designated as ours and took out some things to dig with.
Our yard sat a little lower than the sidewalk and there was a dirt embankment that you could walk up to get to the sidewalk. That is where I found my sister. When I arrived she was standing there with her hands on her hips and looked at me and said, "I already buried everything. You get to dig first cause I know where it all is."
Digging didn't go so well. My sister didn't have much patience at all and decided that since I wasn't finding anything, she would help me. After finding everything, she looked up at me and said, "This just is not going to work. We need real treasure." Then she left.
When she returned she had a handkerchief in her hand and told me to look at what she had. In it was three rings, two watches and some earrings. I looked at her and put my hand over my mouth and said, "You got that from mom's jewelry box." She walked over to the embankment and proceeded to bury her newfound items.
We got everything buried but we had lost track of time. Mom was at the backdoor telling us to come in for lunch and we could go out and play after we had eaten.
Time caused us to forget every place that we had placed moms jewelry. While we were frantically searching for our buried treasure, mom came out and asked us what we were doing. We told her what we had done. That was the first time I ever saw my mom angry, hurt and at a total loss for words. We were out there until well after dark. We found everything but her class ring and birthstone ring, which we never located.
Mom never brought it up to my sister and I again after she scolded us and told us that our parents room was off limits. We both told her we were sorry.
Some years later after I understood the impact of what my sister and I had done, I apologized to her again. She looked at me and said, "Honey, I know you are sorry and I forgive you. I hope when you have children, they don't do that to you." Mom may have forgiven me but I have never forgiven myself. I know how much my class ring and birthstone ring, that she bought me, mean to me.
©Karen A J Rinehart
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