Sunday, September 25, 2005
I was anything but a girlie-girl as a child. Growing up with my two brothers and a neighborhood full of boys, what choice did I have really. I hated dressing up, I hated dolls, I hated pretty shoes and having to get my hair done. All of that. I collected frogs, toads, grasshoppers, played tackle football, kickball and whiffle ball most days, had snowball fights, built forts and built huge jumps on the sliding hills in the winter.
I spent many, many hours outside. In fact, I preferred that over cartoons. Being inside was absolutely the most boring activity that I could think of. I grew up in a pretty suburban neighborhood and there wasn't much for woods in our area except for the neighbors across the street. But in visiting my folks yesterday, well, I looked in those backyards and I do think that my childhood imagination made them out to be the forests that expanded as far as the eye could see when in all actuality, those 'woods' are just a few trees with huge spaces between them and tall grass, nothing more.
I had a particular boy that I played with a lot. He was my first 'boyfriend' at the age of 5. It was so serious in fact that he was the first boy to give me jewelery. Those cheap plastic pearl necklace and bracelet sets one would buy at KMart or something. Of course he gave it to me for Christmas in front of my family. (He had come to visit for the Holiday)
Now I am one who blushes over the silliest of things but my whole body was one big red apple upon opening this gift. My sisters oohed and aahed and cooed about how cute it was while my brothers sat around snickering. Quite embarrassing for me at the ripe old age of 5.
Anyway, this boy didn't live there, it was his relatives' home which he would visit every other weekend. There would be times that he would visit for anywhere from the whole week to maybe three weeks at a time.
These weeks were exciting times for both him and myself because we were always on a mission. It was either bugs, toads, our pet squirrel Sam with the notch in his tail or upsetting his relative by swinging on the branches of the willow tree. He never came in the winter either, his visits would usually start in the spring.
On those days that he was visiting, I would wake up with a ball of excitement in my stomach. I would shovel food in my mouth andrace out that door and run across the street with hopes that he hadn't started our days adventures without me. Most days he hadn't but there were those mornings in which I would have to play catch-up and felt that he had cheated so to speak.
Toads were our main goal. It seems to me now that that is all we were ever interested in. His relatives house had those sunken window wells where the baby toads seemed to be drawn to with no way to escape. Maybe we thought we were saving them or something but this was always the first place in which we would search. Usually we would come up with three to five babies and compare them. And it was always a contest of who would find more. Usually it was him since he lived there and he cheated.
The other kids in the neighborhood seemed to get bored playing with us because most times we didn't like to ride bikes or play games. For the life of me, I will never remember what him and I talked about all those hours we played together but we were inseparable all the same. My other boy friends would ask me why I played with him all the time which would cause me to become angry and over protective of my friend.
I liked the tranquility of nature, the wonders that presented themselves. Something that these other kids never really seemed to care about. All they wanted to do was play sports and do things that were so repetative.
I remember how bored I would be when my 'boyfriend' would leave and how sad I would feel. I actually think we really did like eachother at that very young age, that there was a special friendship there. I hated it when he had to leave and would whine and ask him why he always had to go. He too hated leaving.
He lived on a farm and had to work a lot with his dad. Coming to our neighborhood was like a vacation for him. I know that his mom and dad were not married anymore and that saddened him a great deal but he didn't like to talk about it.
And one thing that I laugh about now was his last name. We were not allowed to say any kind of swear word in my home but his name had the word "hell" in it so I wouldn't say it because I really felt like I was doing something wrong. He didn't understand my logic on that one.
Now as I sit and think about this boy, I wonder how he's doing. He stopped coming to the relatives house when I was about 8 years old. I never knew why that happened but I think there may have been a family dispute or something.
He did come one other time that I can recall for a short visit with his dad but I only caught a glimpse of him. As friendships fade, so did that one. It saddened me that he didn't respond when I waved to him. That he looked and then turned a walked away. I was so anxious to know how he had been. We must have been 11 or 12 when we last looked at eachother.
Over the years as I have watched my children transform from helpless infants, bug hunters, artists, readers, young adults and very unique individuals, the burning age of my childhood knocks louder and louder on my door.
To sit here writing about my days of memories that have been buried deep is like breathing for the first time. And what a fresh feeling that is.
Written by louie0768 .
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