Locked Out

The bus was cold, and smelled unearthly as usual. I was playing subway surfers and listening to music on my kindle fire as I did every day. The bus stopped and the door opened with a release of pressure. I stood still and let all of the younger kids off before me, even though I was sitting in the first seat of the bus. We were the lucky ones, the first stop on the trek through the town of litchfield. Being the first stop on the route, I would arrive home way earlier than my parents. Everyday I would pick up the mail and go to the back door of the house to get inside. I would set the mail and my backpack on the stoop and would jump up to grab the house key off of the top of a tall white pole on my porch. At this time, I was in fifth grade and topped my height out at about four feet, ten inches tall. So while I was tall for my age, I still couldn’t reach the top of the pole to grab the key without jumping as high as I could.

Most days this wasn’t a problem, I would just jump and grab the key off the top, but on this day I didn’t grab the key. While jumping, I had knocked it off of the pole. I watched with panic as the key descended towards the porch, and just my luck, it fell down in between the cracks of the boards. I was stuck. Realizing my situation I did the first thing any sane person would do, check under the porch to see if I could find the key. To no avail. All I saw under the porch was a pile of musty leaves and an old shovel. So I traipsed back up to my book bag to get my emergency cell phone, my parents had given it to me for exactly this reason.Fretful, I called my father, he answered almost immediately.

“Hi dad”

“Hey sweetheart what’s up? Is everything okay?”

“I locked myself out of the house, and I can’t find the key under the porch.”

“No worries, I’ll tell you how to get in through the basement…”

I paused, I was terrified of the basement. I had been since my 8-year old sister told me there was a hobo living down there. Alas, there was no other way inside my house, so I decided I would take the leap.

“Okay, I’m ready”

My dad began meticulously explaining how to get into the basement. I was lost. I had no clue what he was saying, and whenever I tried to follow his directions, I got more confused. Finally, he said…

“Do you understand?”

“Yes dad thank you”

“Ok sweetie bubye”

“Bye dad”

Lies, I did not understand, but I wanted to be an adult so I didn’t ask any questions. I was going to try to give it a shot though. So whilst putting my hands on my hips, I stared at the two magenta painted doors to the basement. He said something about a latch, but whilst examining the doors I couldn’t locate it. At this point I thought I would be stuck outside for hours, and as any ten year old would I started crying. After my small melt down, I collected myself and decided I would call my nonnie. Luckily, she answered the phone and offered to come bring me her key. I was ecstatic, I thought best case scenario she could bring me home to her house.

My scheme was perfect, my Nonnie could unlock the door. I could then go inside feed my dog and when my parents got home tell them I went through the basement. No one would know. At least, that is what I thought would happen.

When my grandmother arrived, she greeted me with an enormous hug. She then informed me that she would be staying until my mother came home. Darn it. My plan was ruined. It wasn’t all bad though, I stayed with my grandmother and played cards until my mother arrived at home. When she got there she questioned…

“Why didn’t you just go in through the basement?”

That is when I broke to her my phone call with my dad and my tribulations with the door. She answered my confusion with a chuckle and offered to take me outside and show me how to pry the door open. As we walked I felt relief, I was just happy that my mom wasn’t mad. The only problem for me now was that I had to learn how to get into the basement and face the hobo that lived inside.

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