One afternoon, when I was eleven years old, my neighbour gave me a dead squirrel in a cardboard box.
He’d found it in his garden and thought I might like to have it.
I don’t really know why.
He was a bit of an eccentric chap.
I guess he thought a dead squirrel would be something a kid would like to see.
I didn’t quite know what to make of it.
I sat on the wall at the end of the driveway, with the dead squirrel in the cardboard box balancing on my knees.
I didn’t really want to look at the dead squirrel, it felt wrong somehow, disrespectful. I kept looking at it anyway. I wondered how it had died and hoped its death had been peaceful.
“What’s in that box?”, I looked up to find one of the neighbourhood kids standing in front of me.
I felt embarrassed. Dead squirrels weren’t cool, surely. He’d think I was really weird.
I replied, “It’s nothing. It’s just a box”.
“Well, why were you looking in it then?”, he asked.
“I just was, there’s nothing in it, honest.”
He moved towards me. I held the box tighter.
He was on his tip-toes now. He was just about tall enough to peer over the top of the box.
“Holy-shit! You’ve got a squirrel in there! Is it dead? Wait til I tell everyone! This is awesome!”
I stared at him, wondered if he was joking. Why would he think the dead squirrel was so interesting? It was just a dead squirrel.
More kids gathered round.
“Let me look at the dead squirrel!”
“No, me!”
“Move over, I can’t see it”.
“How long has it been dead? Does it still have its head?”
They pushed and shoved and fought for a prime view.
I remained sitting on the wall, clasping the cardboard box, confused by all the fuss.
And that’s the thing.
It was just a dead squirrel to me.
Nothing to shout about.
Something to hide.
And yet the other kids thought it was really interesting,
and wanted to know more.
I was surprised.
As an adult, I see lots of people around me, sitting on their own wall and holding a dead squirrel in a cardboard box.
Only the dead squirrel is in their head.
And it’s not actually a dead squirrel,
but their newest business plan,
or their talent for singing.
Or the volunteer work they do at the local care home,
Or the book they self-published.
Nothing to shout about.
Something to hide.
That’s what they believe.
And yet I think it’s really interesting,
and want to know more.
And they are surprised.