I had one of those childhoods they show in movies, full of scenes that should be airbrushed and shown in slow mo. We dressed up neighbourhood cats in baby clothes; we picked fruit for our lunches on the way out the door to school; we laughed at "Asterix" and lay awake on stormy nights listening to the foghorn across the Strait. Our Christmas tree seemed enormous, and the thought of any tree of ours, ever, without our perforated retro star topper, was outlandish. Our backyard was teeming with wild beasts, wicked villains and uncivilized outlaws, providing us with ample opportunity to perform daring feats and conquests.
We canned peaches; we stood at the door on winter nights, waiting to open it for our Dad, who brought in towering, impossibly huge armloads of firewood. The smell of the woodbox, and the crash of the wood, is with me today. We fished; we ate spaghetti; we played "Capture the Flag." We ran barefoot all summer; we made rafts; we even skated on the creek, one unusually cold winter. We had a red front door, with a huge 60's doorknob and a blocked-up mail slot. I always wished we could really use the slot.
We rode our bikes, without helmets, and our elbows and knees were covered in wicked scabs all summer. We stayed up unbelievably late with the Krells, while our parents discussed Theology, drinking endless cups of coffee. We memorized Scripture; we played Lego; we played Monopoly and Clue. Our Mom made homemade burrito shells and Pigs in a Blanket. Grandma called us "Pet" and fed us storebought cookies; Bobo played his mouth organ and had us roaring with laughter. We acted in Christmas plays; we delivered the paper. Our house was old and creaky, and few of our towels matched.
We ate whole grains. We chipped fruit leather off dehydrator trays, and eyed our friends' Fruit Roll-Ups with envy and shame. We toasted marshmallows; we hung laundry on the clothesline; our Dad killed wolf spiders for us. Nanny wore red sweatshirts and white size 4 runners, and came bearing gifts. We went to church, but never in jeans. We camped in the tent trailer and huddled under the orange tarp during the inevitable rain. We canoed. We read "the Chronicles of Narnia" and "Detectives in Togas."
We canned peaches; we stood at the door on winter nights, waiting to open it for our Dad, who brought in towering, impossibly huge armloads of firewood. The smell of the woodbox, and the crash of the wood, is with me today. We fished; we ate spaghetti; we played "Capture the Flag." We ran barefoot all summer; we made rafts; we even skated on the creek, one unusually cold winter. We had a red front door, with a huge 60's doorknob and a blocked-up mail slot. I always wished we could really use the slot.
We rode our bikes, without helmets, and our elbows and knees were covered in wicked scabs all summer. We stayed up unbelievably late with the Krells, while our parents discussed Theology, drinking endless cups of coffee. We memorized Scripture; we played Lego; we played Monopoly and Clue. Our Mom made homemade burrito shells and Pigs in a Blanket. Grandma called us "Pet" and fed us storebought cookies; Bobo played his mouth organ and had us roaring with laughter. We acted in Christmas plays; we delivered the paper. Our house was old and creaky, and few of our towels matched.
We ate whole grains. We chipped fruit leather off dehydrator trays, and eyed our friends' Fruit Roll-Ups with envy and shame. We toasted marshmallows; we hung laundry on the clothesline; our Dad killed wolf spiders for us. Nanny wore red sweatshirts and white size 4 runners, and came bearing gifts. We went to church, but never in jeans. We camped in the tent trailer and huddled under the orange tarp during the inevitable rain. We canoed. We read "the Chronicles of Narnia" and "Detectives in Togas."
The slow result of Life's decay,
To be once more a little child
For one bright summer day.
(Lewis Carroll, "Solitude")
4 Fellow Bletherers:
Beautiful...thanks for sharing.
My husband had the same kind of childhood. He looks back at it fondly.
I didn't have a picturesque childhood.
However; having the childhood I did shaped me to be the woman I am now and the parent I am to my children. I embrace the life I have been given.
"There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in.”
~Deepak Chopra
Have a great day!!
"Backward, turn backward, oh Time in your flight.
Make me a child again, just for to-night!"
Elizabeth Akers Allen
that was so fun! I love those little things that you remember that just resonate inside of you as if they are still alive and real and happening right now!
Gwen, have you considered writing a book? I think you would be good at it.
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