754: The Jar

It was on the top shelf in the pantry, just behind the baking soda. I can’t remember when I first spied it, but I must have been six or seven. My Mother was a fastidious, and efficient housekeeper. Everything had its place and its purpose.

Except for that one jar on top shelf in the pantry, far beyond my reach.

I remember asking my Mother about it when I was about ten, she puckered up her lips and scowled. It was clear that she did not want to broach the subject, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. When the coast was clear I pulled a chair in from the dining room and clambered up to the top shelf. As I reached over towards the jar the chair scudded out from underneath, and I landed in a heap on the pantry floor, covered in baking soda.

I had thought the coast was clear, but I guess it wasn’t quite as clear as all that. In one second flat Mother was at the pantry door, surveying the damage with a scowl on her face. I only ever got two or three whippings that I can remember, but I’ll never forget the one I got that day.

I was too scared to try looking in the jar after that, and pretty soon I had more important things to figure out. I guess I still wonder what was in it.

Anyhow, you brought it to mind when you asked about that jar on the top shelf of the pantry. It’s nothing. Just some old thoughts I had back in the day. I try not to think anymore, and I don’t generally find it too difficult. I should probably throw it out.

Photo by Taryn Elliott on Pexels.com


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