Chapter 1. Too Big to Play
As far as I know I was normal at birth. No one ever told me otherwise. It wasn’t until that one spring day, after I’d just turned 5, that I discovered I wasn’t as normal as I might wish to be.
It was a rare moment, looking back. We were up in the neighbor’s back yard. The moms were visiting, watching the kids play in the grass. This time, though, my big brother was there, along with his good buddy Riley. Riley Larimer was a good natured, freckle-faced 11-year-old, whose presence meant fun for everyone. He and my brother were wrestling with the little kids. Us little kids, of whom I was one.
I was the oldest of the little ones that day – the ripe old age of 5. Ready to rough and tumble with my brother, whom I adored, I was taking advantage of a rare gesture of sibling generosity. I was carefree and exuberant.
Have you ever been there? Wrestling with a pack of juiced-up kids, jostling and tumbling, tickling and tackling? If you have, then you know that occasionally one of these exuberant bundles of energy can body slam you something fierce. That was me that day, with Riley.
I wish God would at least install some sort of signal, an alarm that sounds in life’s pivotal moments. The fact that we only realize the significance of certain events in retrospect is one of those design flaws I’d like to see corrected next time around. Had there been an announcement “Alert! The life of this little girl is about to be permanently shaped by misunderstanding. Take care,” I might have had a different relationship with my body.
But then again, nah. It was inevitable.
Riley took me aside, and with excruciating kindness, informed me I was too big to play that day.
Too big to play.
So innocuous. Such innocent words, delivered with such kindness. Who knew they would move right up into the core of my being, guide my perceptions, control my emotions, and split me right in two? Who knew? And who could have stopped it?
47 years later I am astounded by the impact of that moment, as I take inventory of the transformation I’ve been through this year. Stunned by the import of one little incident, awed by the fragility of the human spirit. And its strength.
Too big to play became my life script, the play book for my relationship with myself. And I didn’t even know it.
Your title alone gave me chills. I’ve been dying for you to write of these things–and your generosity in doing so overwhelms me. Your story is priceless to me.
Yup, thanks for sharing, it helps to know I am not alone. In 4th grade, we had to pick what musical instruments we wanted to play. I had my heart set on the flute. The music teacher told me in front of the whole class that I was too big to play the flute, that instrument needed someone delicate. He told me the clarinet is for a sturdier person and better suited me. Needless to say, I played the clarinet for 6 months and hated every second of it.
Freakin’ a.
I don’t know how deeply this affected me, but I do know I don’t have a lot of childhood memories and I can still picture this as clear as if it were in HD TV: At the park, with my older cousin (babysitter) and 2 younger sisters. I was too big for the swings…the old wooden box kind with a bar that came down over the chains in front of you and harnessed you in. The other swings were just leather straps on chains. I was too big for the safe swings…too little for the other kind, and too frightened. So I just had to watch my sisters get pushed. I loved to swing. But it was the beginning of being “left out and locked out” of my childhood. It was way too early. I must have been 5 or so. My mom always dragging me through Sears and inquiring way too loud in front of God and Everbody if they had “CHUBBY SIZES.” Already struggling with obesity. I still remember what it feels like…when the seatbelts don’t fit and people look at me funny on the bus when I want to sit in the empty seat next to me.
But screw “THEM” whoever “THEY” are. I think you are one of the BEST DAMN PLAYMATES I’ve ever had. I love singing and giggling and coloring with you and misbehavin’. Ain’t that playin’? Too big to play…BAH!