Sometimes you find yourself in the past....and it's a beautiful place. This is a post I wrote in 2008. It made me feel good and I decided, since nobody would ever get to read it in it's home (a blog that is closed now), then I should post it here.
Are you ready? Good.
Come walk with me...
But I don't wanna...
I decided to take a walk this morning. That’s a little unusual for me but not unheard of… I do take walks, just not that often. I’m more of a homebody and I can admit, I have lazy moments.
Obviously this morning’s walk was not normal. Now that I think about it nothing this morning has been normal. The entire day up to and including this moment has been very surreal. I can see words typing onto the page but I’m disconnected from them in some way. I feel like I’m floating above the world and watching everything happen. It’s like I’m not a part of it except as an observer. It’s very odd.
When I take my walks I usually just wander over the hill and around town a while. We live in a fairly small town. I like looking at the older houses. I like looking at their yards too. I’m not sure what my fascination is with yards but I always feel the need to see the whole thing. I’ve been known to walk around the block just to see the rest of someone’s yard. I’m just funny like that.
I assumed that I would do the same as usual when I set out on my walk this morning. If I had actually concentrated on that thought the old saying about what assume means would have popped into my head. But I didn’t think about it. I was unattached. I started towards the hill like always and I noticed a new Longhorn flag that someone had hung from their porch. I stopped to look at it. It was nice. I had a brief thought of “I want one” and then I was walking again.
I’m not completely sure where I was during that time. I don’t mean physically. I'm sure you knew that. I do know I was very deep in thought but honestly can’t tell you what I was thinking about. I must have worked it out with myself because now I feel much calmer than I did when I woke up.
I stepped on something. I think it was a stick. It made a very loud noise underneath me and I snapped my head up, eyes wide and panicky. I was in a field. I was in the woods. I was in both at the same time! I saw a blur of darkness cross in front of me. I had a distant feeling that I was going to faint and I thought “I need to sit down.” That’s just what I did, sat down. Hard. That got my attention!
I sat there looking at everything and finally actually seeing where I was for probably ten minutes. It was beautiful. All around me was perfect calm and complete life at the same time. The birds were singing. I could hear small animals bumbling their way through the woods around me. I had a childish urge to go and watch them. Maybe even catch them. But my grown up self knew they would run and hide as soon as I got within smelling distance. They would be afraid of me.
I felt so disappointed by that thought. And sad. And grown up. That was the worst part. When I was a child I would never have hesitated. Not even for a second. I would have been off in the woods, yelling heeeeeeeere lil critter and laughing until I couldn’t breathe.
Most days the memory of that little country girl running around barefoot, dirty and happy stays in the back of my mind. It’s not that I don’t like her, quite the opposite really. I just forget about her. That’s another bad part about being a grown up. Pushing the memories of my carefree days of childhood further and further away and replacing them with things like when the power bill is due or what I’m going to cook for supper. Sometimes I wish I could go back to being a kid again. Not having to worry about all that stuff.
But then I think about my children. And all the things I’ve had the opportunity to see and do. I would never want to give any of that back. So I guess I’m stuck with the grown up me. It’s a pretty good deal. I suppose I will always miss that little girl though. I’m glad I got to see her this morning, even if just for a minute. Her memory always makes me smile.
Me in 1968
My sissy Pammie (on the teeter-totter) and Me in 1973
Me & my sissy Pammie in 1974
In order, starting with Shorty (that's what we called her growing up), my step-sister Adrianne, my step-brother David, my sissy Pammie & Me in 1978 (and yes, those are bell bottoms. Everyone was wearing them. Leave me alone.)