The imprint.

The neighbor girl who “witnessed” my getting an enema from my mom on the kitchen table was about a year older than I was. In looking back over more than half a century, I have come to think that maybe she enjoyed enemas or that she had learned to cope with them with her imagination. I don’t know.

What I remember about her is that sometime after the “kitchen table enema” she involved me with giving her enemas. She would somehow get the bulb enema syringe, it looked exactly like the one used on me, and we would go into a garage or an empty building. She usually had a jar of water with her and she would take off her clothes and want me to give her an enema. She would make up little scenarios, like playing a game, and they involved her getting an enema.

I didn’t know anything about giving enemas but I do vividly remember putting the enema nozzle into her like she told me. I would squeeze the bulb and the water would go into her and I didn’t take it out before.

This only happened a few times and as suddenly as it had started, it ended.

The place where we lived saw the company my father worked for close down its operation and so they had to leave to go find a new job. A couple of years later we had also moved to a bigger city and these same neighbors had moved there before us. My parents got in touch with her parents and sometimes they would visit. There were no more enemas between this neighbor girl or me.

I do remember a few years after that, this girl was over at the house and said that she had talked to someone who told her that what we did was just normal kids stuff and that was the way kid’s minds worked. I had no idea what she was talking about.

The economy being as it was and the health of my grandparents, we moved away. I have not seen this neighbor girl since then. I think the last time I saw her was when I was around nine years old.

From what I have read, my interest in enemas was now part of me. Now, I wonder if it is still part of who she is? What would she say about her recollections more than half a century later?

It’s just something I think about from time to time.