Childhood Dreamin' Part 2

Dad had called us all to the kitchen table. Noah had spent the night at our place, and Aunt Margaret was checking out the newspaper. Mom was doing some work with the orchestra so she wasn't home.

He'd served his pipin' hot plate of chocolate chip cookies -- for breakfast -- again. Dad loves cookies. Seriously, between cookies and hamburgers, he'd eat nothing else, really, if Mom didn't cook.

"The Llamas finally won a game," Aunt Margaret mused from behind the newspaper she was reading.

"These cookies are delish," Noah had said. "Seriously, dad, these are your best batch yet."

Meanwhile, I was sulking because yet another batch of cookies was NOT my idea of a good breakfast. I would much have rathered some pancakes or waffles, but mom wasn't home to cook them, so of course they didn't get cooked.

"What's wrong with Savannah?" Noah asked while looking at me and after I'd given him the evil eye. Dad wouldn't answer him.

Right after breakfast, I saw Aunt Margaret sobbing in her room. She grabbed me, and I felt safe there, like everything was going to be okay.

That was the day, though, I first went into the catacombs alone. After leaving the house, I rode my bike all the way to the cemetery. I was feeling particularly brave, and I wanted to get my mind off of what had just transpired.
I loved school, and I loved to learn, except for the fact that I was made fun of because I refused to wear a dress. Mom tried to make me, she really did. Of course, dad would sneak my pants for me just after mom went to work. And of course, there weren't too many simgirls interested in playing pirates, so for me, it was, well, screw them.
I spent my recesses in the library reading. Mostly it was skill books but there was some pleasure reading, too. I pretty much knew everything the teacher taught, already, so they had me working on advanced material.

When I finally arrived at the cemetery it was getting dark. Great!, I thought, just the way I like it. I was hoping to catch a ghost or two when I came out of the mausoleum, but that didn't happen. I made a mad dash past the Grim Reaper statue and ran into the mausoleum. It was my first real brush with danger. Several times I spotted zombies and almost died swimming the underground rapids!

I emerged from the catacombs wet, smelly, and altogether exhilarated. I got a few semi-rare uncut gemstones out of the deal, too. When I look back on the experience, it's the whole reason I became an archaeologist and tomb raider. I love cemeteries, tombs, catacombs, history and art. And what I do combines all those things.
The vocational aptitude test I took in high school said I was best suited for a career in law enforcement or medicine. Considering I spent a good deal of my teen years in the back of police cars, and the fact that my paternal grandparents were both involved in medicine, I find it at least a little bit ironic. But I honestly believe I cannot imagine myself doing anything else but what I do now.