The sailing curtains

We were living in Scottsdale, Arizona when it happened, in one of the places that we moved to there. I was probably somewhere around ten to twelve years old. I had just been out front, with some other members of the family. My father was doing something to the lawnmower, getting ready to mow the yard.

I went back inside the house, through the carport door. I think I got something, maybe a drink of water or something to eat, and started to go into the living room. I had only made it into the room a little ways, when the right half of the curtains on the living room window majestically lifted way up in the air and sailed out into the room, then settled on the floor a few feet in front of me.

I stared at it with concerned interest. This was very strange. It didn't seem that curtains should be able to do this. I thought about it but I couldn't figure out why it should do something like that.

I finally started picking it up, big pale folds of it, and going through it to see if I could find anything that might help explain it. Everything seemed normal, but then I came across a small, round, metal sprinkler head, one that was intended to be screwed into a hose. It had a deep cut in it. I came to realize that my father had run over it with the lawnmower, and it had been hit by a blade and flung through the window, hitting the curtain. When I went and looked at the window, I found a hole in the screen, confirming it.

I suppose I should have been scared, but I wasn't. There was just a sense of wonder about it, and the whole thing had a strange, dreamlike quality.