One night, rain leaks into the narrator’s bedroom. The leak becomes a stream, the stream a lake. Soon, he is floating away on his bed-boat, off on an adventure.
Floating Away
The rain falling against the window sang a lullaby.
I snuggled into my pillow, pulled my blankets up to my chin and closed my eyes.
The rain got louder and sounded like a drum. Boom. Boom. Boom. A-rat-a-tat-tat. Boom. Boom. Boom. A-rat-a-tat-tat. One raindrop squeezed through a gap between the window and the window sill. His sisters, his brothers, his cousins and his whole family poured in.
I jumped off my bed and splashed on the soggy rug. It was like playing in a puddle. The water covered my feet, my knees, my tummy, my head. I tried to climb back onto my bed, but it was very slippery. I fell into the water over and over and over again. I grabbed hold of the bed frame and pulled myself up.
My bedroom wall washed away, and my bed-boat floated outside. I made a tent with my blankets and peered up at the sky. The moon was full. Stars twinkled through the rain. The world smelled like laundry in the washer.
A big fin swam right behind me.
I paddled with my hands—faster and faster and faster. But I didn’t paddle fast enough.
Big Fin opened his mouth and swallowed me and my boat.
I went around and around inside his stomach, like when you pull the plug in the bathtub. I held on tight so I wouldn’t fall off my boat.
Big Fin pooped me and my boat out.
We landed on an island. There were lollipop trees and bubble gum fruit. Night became day, day became night. I ate seaweed spaghetti and drank moonbeam juice. It was fun on that island, but I missed Mom and Dad and even my big sister.
I needed a paddle so I could paddle home. The beach was long. The beach was wide. It was full of sand, but you can’t make a paddle with that. In the tall grass jungle, I found an old boot. I kicked and kicked and kicked, but I couldn’t kick a lollipop tree down. So I couldn’t use it to make a paddle.
Way out in the water, Big Fin waited for me.
I sat on the beach, watched the water and waited and waited and waited for a paddle. Four pieces of driftwood floated up to the shore: one was too small, one was too heavy, one fell apart in my hands, but one was just right. I pushed my boat into the water and headed for home.
Big Fin swam straight at me.
I picked up a piece of driftwood. “Fetch,” I called to Big Fin and threw the driftwood as far as I could.
Big Fin swam after it, caught it and brought it back.
I kept throwing driftwood until Big Fin got too tired to swim back to me.
I paddled across the ocean, and it led to rivers that had been streets. Dogs with searchlight eyes barked from the shore. River after river after river until I was home. I paddled into my bedroom.
Dawn’s light dried up all the rain.
“Wake up, sleepyhead. It’s morning.” My big sister flicked on the light.
On this blog in June...
Sunday, June 8
Children's Hospital (short memoir)
...about the day I was assessed as dyslexic
Sunday, June 15
Tying Laces with my Dad (short memoir)
When I have trouble tying my shoelaces, my dad...
Sunday, June 22
Book Review for Indigenous Day
Two Tricksters Find Friendship by Johnny Aitken and Jess Willows
...is a year in the life of a new mutually supportive friendship between Jessie, a white girl, and Johnny, an Indigenous boy
Sunday, June 29
My fingers on the keyboard
My head in the clouds
I relish my days
Sharing my author journey...
I keep my past submissions organized in two white binders. These
