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| Friday, July 24, 2009 |
| Nostalgia |
Driving along in my car yesterday, I thought about my boys summer. I wondered what kind of memories they were going to have, reiterate for friends, tell the women they love... I imagine them saying they grew up in a single parent household with their crazy mom that would jump on the furniture and feed them cookies for breakfast. I imagine they would talk about how mom really didn't know everything they did, and the walls they climbed, and the watermelons they sent soaring off the balconies of the neighbors apartments to see them burst upon impact, spilling it's meat and black seeds all over the sidewalk. I wonder if they will exploit their adventures building a shop to overcharge the patrons of the swimming pool for candies you can buy at the local market for twenty five cents. I wonder if they would say mom only had two rules when friends came over, one: you must have fun, and two: you must raid the kitchen when a snack attack is impending. I wonder if they will speak of the long hours of chore doing and laundry folding. I wonder, I wonder.
When I was a little girl there was a big machine gun sort of apparition in the park a half a block from my house. My sister, friends, and I used to walk over there and pretend we were blowing huge holes in cars and trucks as they passed along Main street. We would wave spasmodically at diesels, chucking our arms in the air to be rewarded with long hoots from their horns. There was a little convenience store not far from there where you could refill your 'mug' with soda for ten cents, across the street you could get a brown paper grab bag full of assorted candy and an occasional free popcorn for a quarter. On long summer nights, my brothers and sisters and I would walk to the movie theater, an old beautiful building.. historical I believe, to catch a movie. I loved the way the place smelled, old wood, plaster and butter.. velvet red seats and a floor that wasn't quite even no matter where you were standing. It had a huge velvet curtain that would part when the movie began, to signal everyone to be quiet and pay attention. There was also a stage, but I don't think it was used for anything. Behind our house there was a mound of dirt we claimed for our own. We called it Greenburg Hill. Back then it seemed to be miles away and as big as a mountain. We caught jack rabbits, snakes, lizards.. mostly my brother and I.. then we would chase my sisters with them. That actually makes me giggle. We used to play with skeeters in the irrigation ditch, catching guppies to bring home to an over filled fish tank, climb the pear tree in the horse pasture and eat until we were incredibly sick. There was a rock wall separating our house from the neighbors house that I loved leaning against when it was really hot in the summer, its stone edifice was craggy, but it was always cool, the perfect spot to read. We also had two gigantic trees in the side yard, one was an olive tree, the other birch I think. I loved the olive tree, its bark was kind of loose, so you could peel it off in long strips. One of its branches was really long and sturdy, perfect for a little girl to lay lazy and day dream about being a really important woman some day. Under the shade of that particular tree grew milkweed that was always pregnant with fuzzy caterpillars. We would put them in jars with leaves, feeding them full of all the milkweed they could eat, they would cocoon and transform right before our eyes. My sister shared the miracle of this when I was practically a tot. I remember being worried because the caterpillar disappeared from the jar and all that was left was a big ugly looking sack. Two blocks down the road there was an old house all the neighborhood kids swore was occupied by a witch. The garden of this house always seemed to thrive without attendance, no one ever came or went, there wasn't a car in the drive, and the occupant didn't attend church. One day I schemed to make some money, so I went around knocking doors to see if people would pay me to clean, weed, you know, the stuff people don't like doing, but must be done anyway. I went to her house. She had an impressive collection of glass toppers for electric poles, a couple of pieces of petrified wood, some really cool fossils and yes, a black cat. As far as I could see, she was just a really old, kind of lonely lady. I vacuumed her floor for a quarter.
Now I have small wrinkles appearing at the corners of my eyes and mouth. I have age spots, aches and pains, and a head full of worry. However, I still on occasion, puddle jump when it rains, run fully clothed through the neighbors sprinklers, eat junk and stay up all night telling stories... perhaps the kid residing inside wants to leave an impression for the children the adult in me is responsible for. I hope their fondest memories, most abundant memories are of laughing, dancing, playing, singing and sharing with their mom. |
posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 2:16 PM  |
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