One thing that I do not miss about the south is snakes. Whenever Adam & I were running at Cameron Park, I was always terrified of seeing a snake on the trail (Hey, it happened a few times and one time I even found myself inches from a water moccasin sunning by the river- eeeek!) One time, we were running and a snake wriggled across our path and I jumped at least 4 feet high and sliced open Adam's back with my new engagement ring. Sorry, honey! It was always funny because after we saw a snake or even after I heard a rustling beside us, I always found a new gear and could sprint away like you wouldn't believe. That would be a good way to motivate me to kick at the end of a race, now that I think about it. Anyways, Adam didn't love snakes but he couldn't understand my terror, my great fear of the snake.
Then I thought back and I realized where this fear had come from... my loving, caring brothers. Looking back, many of my irrational fears were formed while spending quality time with my big brothers. However, let us examine the snake. We grew up in a house in the woods, so snakes were not uncommon. I don't remember being really scared of them until one particular day. My dad had found a snake in the driveway and had blown it's head off with a b.b. gun. My brothers came down to the backyard where I was peacefully playing with our black lab and said, "C'mon Camille, we have something cool to show you." Delighted to have the attention of my older brothers, I skipped alongside them to behold this cool, dazzling thing. It was a snake. With it's head blown off. In the middle of the driveway. No big deal, right? I tried to be cool, "Oh. That's cool," I said.
"Touch it." My middle brother said.
Now, I didn't know much about snakes but I knew better than to touch one. Still, here were my two cool, older brothers. And for once they weren't sitting on my head and tooting or hiding me in the laundry chute.
"C'mon Camille- it's dead. Just touch it."
I timidly stuck my white Ked out and barely touched the snake when it began slithering wildly about the driveway. "AUGH!!!" I screamed and sprinted down the driveway, crying in terror. I didn't know about the chicken with it's head cut off thing yet. Regardless, it was horrifying and in the weeks following as I rode my bike down the driveway past the fateful headless snake incident, I would glance at my back wheel to make sure that there wasn't a snake slithering up it. This fear was probably compounded by the fake rubber snakes my brothers would chunk towards me at random. I'd like to say that I've overcome. Well, at least I've come over to a land of no snakes?
P.S. I love you, brothers, even though you tooted on my head. You still would've beat up anyone else who tooted on my head.