I remember the first day I babysat Melanie. I was in college and a local family hired me to watch her four days a week. Things went really well during the initial consultation. The meeting was arranged to see if she liked me. I did her nails and then we did a puzzle. She did like me, of course, and there I was again the next Monday morning. We waved from the window as her mother drove off. This job is going to be so easy, I remember thinking… And then as soon as her mother’s car was out of site, she burst out screaming and crying. She was only four years old at the time and I was too ignorant to realize that four year olds are essentially the emotional equivalent of year old babies.
My eyes bugged out of my head. I stared at her unsure of what to do. I grew up as an only child and lived a extremely solitary existence for most of my young and adult life. I had minimal experience with children up until that point. Thankfully an inkling of maternal instinct kicked in. I picked her up and soothed her until she stopped crying.
This morning on the news I heard about a movie called, “The Killing Fields.” It is based on a string of unsolved murders around Interstate 45 southeast of Houston Texas. The killer and possible killers target young women and girls however, after a bit of research there is suspected 12 different serial killers in the entire Houston vicinity, not just I-45. In fact, there have been 200 unsolved murders of girls in the area since 1971. I don’t usually write about this kind of thing, but when I was in college I went on a road trip with my boyfriend. It started out fun and then things got really scary one night when we stopped in a campground a few hours west of Houston off of I-10. Below is an excerpt from the journal I kept during the trip:
Texas, Hayley Rose 2008
The Devil’s Triangle
Road Trip Day 13, 14, 15
June 15, 2008
I don’t understand why I have this strange hobby of walking around cities drunk. Maybe I’m immature, maybe I have a drinking problem, or maybe it’s a little bit of both.
New Orleans was really the most welcoming place for this type of behavior, but I tend to do it anywhere. Towards midnight, the stench of vomit wafted through the air infrequently as we walked block to block. It was pretty disgusting, but on Rue Bourbon we quickly realized that it’s legal to walk around and drink alcoholic beverages, so I guess it must also be legal to vomit on the sidewalk.