Don't Call Me Sweetie

This week I’ve been thinking a lot about random childhood memories. Those weird and vivid memories you have for some nonsensical reason. I’m talking about memories that aren’t necessarily important, but stick with you for some unknown reason, usually embarrassment. These are memories that probably only you remember; it probably didn’t make an impact on anyone else involved, but, for whatever reason, it was etched permanently in your brain. You know what I mean; you call your kindergarten teacher “Mom,” or you trip on a sidewalk in front of strangers. No one will remember that later, but it was so humiliating to you, it’s forever stamped into your memories.

The other day I was walking out of the bathroom at work, and as I grabbed for the handle, I turned off the light. The light went out before I got the handle, and, for a split second, I couldn’t find the doorknob in the dark. Then one of my most embarrassing and untold childhood memories came flooding back. An incident known only to me as the coat closet incident.

We were living in our first house in Kansas, so I know I had to be between four and seven years old. For my sake, I’m desperately hoping I was closer to four than seven. I have absolutely no idea why, but I was in the entryway of my house, looking at the coat closet. I don’t think we were going anywhere. I don’t even know if it was winter or not. All I know is I was staring at the coat closet and I had the thought that would start it all: I am really really REALLY good at putting my coat on.

I opened the closet and grabbed my coat. Ladies and Gentlemen get ready to be amazed.  With that thought, I whipped my coat on in the blink of an eye. In another blink, I had the zipper completely zipped. Did you see that?! Did you see how FAST that was? Probably not, because it was TOO fast to process.

For the sake of my imaginary, but clearly dubious audience, I repeated the miraculously quick feat several more times. With each whoosh of the coat and zip of the zipper they become more and more in awe of my amazing skills.

You think that’s good? I bet I can do it with my eyes CLOSED! The audience gasps, marveling at my brazen claim. I take off the coat, take a few deep breaths to prepare, and close my eyes. The audience is on the edge of their seat. I swing the coat on. People can’t hold their applause. I gather the bottom of the coat so I can do the zipper. My eyes just barely creep open as I get the zipper lined up. I slam them shut and bring the zipper up.

I’ve done it. The audience is on their feet. There’s mention of building a monument in my honor. In the back of my mind, I can’t shake the feeling that I cheated by opening my eyes. I reset the audience and try a few more times. Every time I go to line up the zipper, my eyes can’t help but open just a teeny tiny bit. I just need…a blindfold! I look around. All the closet has to offer are more coats, an umbrella, and a vacuum cleaner. Wait. What if…I was in total darkness! What if I use the actual coat closet to block out all the light? There would be no disputing that I am the best at putting on my coat. That will show them.

I walk into the coat closet and pull it shut to check out the darkness. As predicted, it’s completely dark in there. I open the door, take my coat back off, and drop it on the closet floor so the audience knows I will be doing the ENTIRE act in complete and total darkness. Watch this everybody. I pull the door completely shut. This is it.

I reach down for my coat and can’t actually find it. I feel around, and find it on the right side of my feet. All of a sudden, the vacuum and the coats are in the way, so I pull the vacuum behind me, tripping on it as I do so. I try to swing my coat on. It hits all the other coats. This is going to be a lot harder than I thought. I realize I can’t actually tell which part of my coat is which so I feel around for a few minutes until I find a sleeve. Then I work up the sleeve to the coat. Aha! Now we’re getting somewhere. I manage to get my arm into the sleeve. I try to feel for the other arm hole. I know I’m close, but I just can’t seem to grab it. After an eternity, I finally catch it just right, and the other arm slides in.

The audience has been holding their breath. They are completely awestruck once I have the coat on. My little hands go for the zipper. I get one hand on either side and go to line them up. I miss. Try again. Miss. Again. Miss. No matter what I try, it would seem my left and right hands can not find each other in the dark. I can’t give up, the audience will laugh at me! I take a deep breath and try again. Miss. At this point, I’m starting to get a little overwhelmed at how completely dark it is in the closet. It’s getting really hot. I try a half dozen more times. Each time, my hands completely miss each other.

The audience isn’t even real, who cares what they think, my wounded ego reasons. I admit defeat and go to open the door. Where is the handle?! I scrape my hand up and down the door, in the area where the doorknob should be. I feel total smoothness, no doorknob anywhere. Oh my God, I’m going to die in here. I start to panic. The more I run my hands over the door, the more frantic I get. It was RIGHT here! Why can’t I find it?! I widen my search area and begin clawing over the entire door. Up, down, left, right, lines, circles, zigzags! Nothing!

I’m panicking. I’m tripping on the vacuum. The coats are literally trying to grab at me and swallow me into an endless abyss. I start in the bottom corner and work my hands up slowly finding nothing. Absolutely no doorknob. I push on the door thinking maybe it’s not latched, or maybe the doorknob will rattle and I’ll find it. The door doesn’t budge. Not even a millimeter. That’s not right, the door should move a little. The door has somehow solidified into an unmovable wall. I’m never ever getting out of here. With this thought I begin frantically pushing and clawing on the door. The closet is getting smaller and smaller. I bang on the door trying to get it to budge even a little.

All of a sudden, after what seems like an eternity, there is a blindingly bright wall of light to my left. I squint at it and see my mom standing in the door. She asks, “What are you doing in here?” My brain can’t quite figure it out. I look in front of me and realize the “door” I had been fighting was, in fact, a completely solid wall. When I picked up my coat and stepped over the vacuum I had turned 90 degrees in the process. I had literally been looking for a doorknob on the side wall of the closet. It had never occurred to me to try turning. I realize I haven’t answered my mom’s question yet. I step out of the closet, take a deep breath and try to sound as nonchalant as possible, “I was seeing if I could put my coat on in the dark, it’s too bad you opened the door when you did, I almost had it zipped too!”

I was way too embarrassed to admit what I did, but looking back, this is actually one of my favorite type of memory. The ones that only make sense to me. I have no idea why it always stuck with me, but I’ll never forget being trapped in that closet after failing to put my coat on!