Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Where Angels Fear to Tread (not about the book) (09/08/11)
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TITLE: My Burning Eyes | Previous Challenge Entry
By Margaret McKinney
09/15/11 -
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Teenagers should come with an instruction manual.
Normal children grow into these wily creatures nearly overnight, and we, defenseless parents, are unprepared. My twelve-year-old daughter is suddenly thirteen, and has secrets. She writes her secrets with alarming frequency in a small notebook. I ask her, casually, what could possibly occupy her thoughts so readily as to draw her to that little book so often – she carries it with her constantly, writes in it almost continuously. Whatever innerworkings of her mind that might be shared with me are jotted down in a fifty-nine-cent notebook from Target.
This puzzles me. She is thirteen, not twenty-three. Surely eighth grade cannot carry so heavy a load as to require such cerebral activity. And then I recall being thirteen, specifically the emotional minefield that was my eighth-grade-year, and I relent with a shrug. Surely God holds her in the palm of His hand, as He does the rest of us. And yet, I can’t help but peek into His palm at times to see what is going on.
She is gone one Saturday, to spend the night with a friend. Knowing she won’t return until the next day, I embark on the near-impossible task of cleaning her room. This, too, is new territory: the piles of clothes strewn about, the cryptic sayings scrawled on the whiteboard, a dozen Converse sneakers in rainbow colors crammed beneath the bed. There are papers scattered everywhere I look, stashed in books, littering the floor, even overflowing the waste basket. I sigh in exasperation, for that is what mothers do in the face of such a mountain of mess. We love our children, we wish they were cleaner, but we endure.
I bend low to sweep the detritus from the space between the bed and dresser, stepping back to avoid the mountain of books that rain down on my feet. My eyes are drawn to the small, spiral-bound wonder that sits atop the pile – the notebook.
Hands shaking, I retrieve it from the mound; turn it over in my hands. Butterflies encase my stomach as if I was the thirteen-year-old. My eyes are itching, practically burning to see what’s inside. The usual moral arguments sweep through my mind, volleying back and forth like a tennis ball: do I have the right to read her private thoughts? I should have some rights as her mother, shouldn’t I? And yet, children should have a place of privacy in which to stow their feelings. But what if her feelings are a danger to her? She should be able to trust me, her mother. But part of my role as her mother is to protect her, isn’t it?
There is no ready answer, and yet the notebook still sits in my hands. My knees knock together and I feel exposed. I walk to her door and close it, turning the lock like a final proclamation. Already my guilt sits like a hard knot in my stomach. I mutter a prayer for God’s direction, but I don’t really mean it. My curiosity will win this battle, and it will be a sordid victory, I am sure.
Brushing clothes from the bed, I sit and draw a deep breath. It is silly, how much I am shaking, as if this were a matter of life and death and not a silly notebook. I run a hesitant finger down the red cardboard cover, blank, not even inscribed with my daughter’s name in glittery markers. I open the cover and begin to read.
I am undone at what I see scrawled on the pages, and I mourn the loss of ignorance, of hers and my own.
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Beautifully written to make one ask these 'burning' questions. Nice title by the way:)
Double space between paragraphs to give the reader that important white space.
At first I wasn't sure if I liked the ending. My amenity wanted to know if she was hanging out with boys, experimenting with drugs or something less sinister. But after thinking about it, I do like the open. Each reader can picture for themselves what robbed the daughter's innocence. This was well-written and an enjoyable read
Outstanding job of capturing the tumultuous emotions of the mother of a teenager! As I recall 8th grade was terror for both of my kids and myself as they made there way through it.
Huge congratulations on such a wonderful job with those measly 750 words! Left me wanting to turn the page!
Your story touched something in me as well. I have a 13 year old 8th grade daughter. Her room, however, is perfectly kept for some unexplainable reason, so when reading about the messy room, my mind went to my 16 year old daughter's room, which is pretty much exactly how you describe!
But then the notebook. Oh the notebook. To read or not to read?
Dr. Laura would say READ! I think the situation is different for every parent, though. WIth the direction of God, we have to decide what is right in our circumstance, with each particular child. I don't think there is a right or a wrong answer, but in general, I do support any parent who chooses to read and find out what is going on in their teen's head.
I've read texts and facebook posts to see what my kids are up to, and looked at the history of what websites they've been to. We have to watch out for our kids, who can easily be ensnared by the evil that lurks among us.
Excellent writing and a well deserved win. Congrats!
Well written and thought provoking. I don't have any teenage daughters, but my great-neice is also going through the secretive stage--adult and child at the same time.
I am not sure what I would have done, but today we live in such a different time than when I grew up.