The Blimp, the Boil, and Mr. Beckett’s House


In this chapter I was three years old when a ceiling collapsed in our home. Here is today’s excerpt.

Chapter Six – The Blimp, The Boil, and Mr. Becket’s House

A thundering crash scared us awake one morning. I scrambled over the bars of my crib, and hit the floor running for the stairs as fast as my three year old legs could carry me. Mom grabbed my sister out of her crib, and Dad followed with a loud shout to be careful.
I was halfway down the stairs, and peered wide-eyed over the banister. The air was thick with dust, and smelled like chalk. Huge chunks of plaster covered the floor and furniture. I couldn’t see our kitten, Snuff, anywhere, and was terrified that she was lying dead under the debris. When her dusty, white, head appeared from behind the sofa, I forgot the danger, and ran to rescue her. We carefully picked our way through the mess to the safety of outdoors. I remember being in awe that a ceiling had actually fallen down. How could that happen?

The rest of the chapter describes some other experiences in that year of my life. Tomorrow, “Nobody Argues with Grandma.”

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