{10. Childhood}

Childhood.

Sweet, sweet, childhood.

Sometimes I miss mine so much I get emotional. I am one of those nostalgic people that remembers smells and songs and feelings. To me, there is nothing better than pouring through old photo albums and home videos remembering the olden days. And there are many moments when I would give anything to just be little and free and innocent again.

Does this ever happen to you?

My childhood is a time I’d like to go back to because to me, it was perfect. It’s the ground work for everything I am today. It’s why I am a teacher, and a creative thinker, and a friend. And the more I look back on it, the more wonderful it seems.

Yes, we fought.

Yes, there were lots of tears.

There was screaming and yelling and pulling hair.

There were cliques and bullies, alike.

And yes, there were middle school days where feelings were hurt and self consciousness kicked in.

Did I ever I hate what puberty did to my skin.

But above all that there were smiles.

There were silly friendships and laughs and inside jokes.

There was happiness.

And this feeling like you could do anything.

Days like today and last night, when I was going through old pictures, I was brought back to those days of innocence. Those days of pure bliss. Nothing to worry about except what time you had to be home for dinner.

I was filled with memories of my parents and my cousins and my childhood friends.

I remember my fifth birthday, my aunt Heidi and Grammy drove up all the way from CT to surprise me. We have an old home video and the excitement that’s evident is the best thing to watch. I could watch it over and over and over and it never gets old. I’m like a kid in a candy store that just found the jackpot.

And I remember when I was twelve I went to Disney World for the very first time. I know everybody says it’s magic, but for me on that trip it really was magic. In every sense of the word. And I rejoice in the day that I get to go back and experience it all over again, taking me back to that feeling of pure contentment.

We spent summers weekends at the Lake, racing down the dock and throwing ourselves into the cold, sweet water.

Family trips to Vermont and the Adirondacks?

We owned the world.

I remember carpool rides with friends and days spent playing in the summer sun.

I remember pouring buckets and buckets full of water on the ants in our driveway. Wondering if they’d sink or swim.

I remember bike riding through the busy streets and grabbing ice cream in a cone.

(Mint-chocolate chip was my go-to. MMMMmm.)

One time I buried a dead frog under a tree.

And one time I was going too fast on my bike and I took a face-plant into the pavement.

I screamed like there was no tomorrow.

We’d explore down at the creek behind our house,

and run through the sprinkler in the front lawn,

and always, always we made forts in the dining room out of blankets and chairs.

We’d play dress up, and barbies, and ballet.

And we’d put Annie on the turn table and sing our hearts OUT.

Those were the good old days.

In her memories there is family. And in her memories there is laughing.
And there is love, and joy, and tears. 
She has taken these memories and placed them inside of her. 

The good old days.

Memories I hold tight to my heart.