Knowing

She was a little unwanted girl named Cassie, with dark curls, bright eyes and chubby little hobbit toes. Alone as usual, crisp white blouse and plaid jumper pressed against the sweet loam. She lay behind the curtain of weeping willow branches, the sweet smell of earth and moss in her nostrils, the rustling voices of a thousand leaves spoke to her. It was a private world all her own filled with dancing light and wonder. In this sensuous spot she was safe. Her secret place filled her with joy and gave her power – and at age five she knew all about the power of knowing secrets.
The crystalline peace fell in shattered fragments around her as a voice called her name. Like a rabbit, she instinctively popped out from behind the haven of leaves to be confronted by her sister. Daddy was home from his trip and boy was she gonna get it for being such a dirty mess! Brushing dirt and twigs off her belly hastily, Cassie took a deep breath and entered the kitchen.
Daddy’s suitcase and long black overcoat lay on top of his briefcase, which was spilling important looking papers all over the floor. Daddy sat in a cold, steel gray and yellow chair talking and laughing. He had a cigarette in one hand and a brown bottle in the other. Her mother and the other children, nowhere to be seen, had obviously escaped to other parts of the house. Her sister, now that her mission was over, also vanished.
But Daddy didn’t seem to notice. He continued his story pulling Cassie onto his lap. It felt good to be held by daddy, Cassie thought as she looked up into his glassy eyes - even if he did smell funny. He stopped his happy chatter long enough to take a nice long pull from the brown bottle. The sunlight streaming in the kitchen window sparkled into the foamy liquid like a magic potion. A smiling nod from Cassie was all it took to launch Daddy into regaling her with the rest of his story. It was something about his trip. She couldn’t tell because Daddy’s words were starting to sound like the “smashed” potatoes Mommy made on Sundays. As she brushed the ashes from Daddy’s cigarette off her skirt, Cassie noticed several brown bottles on the floor next to Daddy’s feet. The potion was starting to work!
Lying back against Daddy’s strong arm, Cassie closed her eyes. “You’re a peach, Cassie,” Daddy said. “What’s a peach?” Cassie wanted to know.
Well, Daddy was off again spinning glorious tales of peaches the size of beach balls and sweet as honey. Cassie could literally see the juice dripping through her fingers. He was going to take her on one of his trips someday and buy her the biggest peaches in the world.
Then it happened. The magic climaxed into one bright moment: “Cassie, I love you.” Just as abruptly she was scooted off Daddy’s lap as he went to the refrigerator to get another bottle. His words were now directed at the air, the peaches and daughter forgotten.
Cassie walked towards the bedroom she shared with her sisters. She knew that tomorrow Daddy wouldn’t remember. Tomorrow, Daddy would be grouchy, screaming and hitting, and God knew what else. But today she had gotten to ride on Daddy’s fairy tale, to experience the world through the eyes of the brown potion, where everything shined, if only for a moment, like her secret spot.
At five years of age, Cassie had learned the ups and downs of the dark brown magic. It was like a roller coaster that soared to the highest peak, pausing just long enough for you to notice the clouds, before plunging at a mind numbing pace towards the ground. And the real power, the real secret, was in knowing. You see, Cassie already knew that clouds have no substance.