Catching Childhood

This morning I sat at the kitchen table, taking the pills that make me a little dry in the mouth, but also help with the pain.  I was watching our neighbor’s kids waiting for the bus.  I’m lucky enough to live in the house where the bus stops.  I say lucky, because every day I’m reminded of how wonderful this world can be.

This morning the sister and brother took off their big backpacks and chased each other around their driveway.  It was 7:18AM.  The bus was due in 2 minutes and being kids, they couldn’t just stand and wait.  So they ran in circles, started flapping their arms.  And as the bus pulled up, they put on their heavy packs and climbed aboard for another day at school.

I grew up in a little town on Lake Superior.  Ashland is a long town, it runs along Chequamagon Bay.  Our house was 3 blocks from the lake and 5 blocks from my elementary school.  The only time we took a bus was to go to a beach on the other end of town, or to go to college.

In the summer, we ran all day, stopping to ask permission to drink out of a hose when we were thirsty and thanking whoever let us do that.  When we were hungry we grabbed an apple from a tree, a stalk of rhubarb or carrot or peas from the ground.  They were the days of skinned knees and worn out jeans.  Of mosquito bites and dirty faces.  Nothing was too hard and everything was new.

We played softball and wiffle ball, we had arguments, do-overs and broken hearts and apologies.  All in the day of a kid.  We didn’t know then how quickly our childhoods would slip from our grasp.  The days of running and swimming and riding our bikes like we were flying a fighter plane or a space ship.  Floating on a pulp log on Lake Superior, we were pirates, coming ashore to look for treasure.

The feeling of the ice cold lake on a warm summer day, the sand squishing between the toes and the way your feet looked in the water.  Laying on the sand to dry, before going home for supper.  Running like we just couldn’t wait for anything

The sights and sound of birds and fish and deer and cats and dogs.  They were all around.  We watched out for cars and tried not to do anything that would require a visit or call to our parents.

At night we ran inside and ate our dinner as fast as we could.  We were hungry.  Not hungry from stress or boredom or because we spent the day watching fast food commercials.  We didn’t have fast food then.  I guess fast food was when you had a peanut butter sandwich instead of waiting for dinner.

After dinner it was time for baths.  Most importantly, it was time to wash our feet.  Most of our adventures took place with no shoes on.  We didn’t need or want shoes in the summer.  You would just have to take them off when you went swimming and you might lose one.

After our baths, we were tucked into the clean cotton sheets and while it was still light out, we sang ourselves to sleep.  Many nights our Mom and Dad requested that we not give them a nightly concert of Beatles songs, but we were happy kids, and tired and eventually sleep took over.

The next day we would do it all again.  More running and riding and playing and swimming.  More fights and tears and kissing of cut fingers, skinned knees and stubbed toes.  Mom wiped the tears away and explained that it wasn’t the end of the world, our hearts were not broken and after a hug and a glass of water we were right back outside, to pick up where we left off.

There were no counselors or mediators or guns or knives.  We knew when we had done something wrong, we knew we had to say “sorry” and we knew that do-overs were always an option.  Sometimes we were friends again right away and sometimes we had to wait until we had forgotten what we were fighting about.  Nothing was ever so bad that it ended our friendships.

In the years that followed, we transitioned into teenagers and adults and we still knew that there was nothing that we did that we couldn’t apologize for and we knew how to say “sorry” and mean it.  We knew that it wasn’t ok to hurt anyone or anything.  Kids or animals, it was all the same, we were all God’s creatures and we respected that.  Even if we didn’t know what respect was.

And much to our surprise, we grew up just as fast as we ran.  We were always in a hurry to go to the next thing.  That is how your childhood is, you run and run until your wish comes true and you are an adult.  And the irony is, you wish you could do it all over again.

But thankfully, every now and then I see little kids doing something and just like that  Kenny Chesney song “I Go Back”.  To days of snarls in my hair so bad that scissors were used, bath times when Dad helped us wash our feet that were so dirty, we couldn’t go to bed until some of the black had been removed. 

And after our “now I lay me down to sleep....” a kiss on the head from Mom and we were asleep.  In our bunk beds with our Snoopy bedspread that declared Happiness is a Warm Puppy  and our Snow White and the Seven Dwarf pillowcases.  We left the world of our awake adventures and entered our deep sleep.  And God indeed kept our souls until we awoke.  She still does.

And every morning we have the promise of a “do-over”.  Everyday dawns with a perfect morning, we all have the opportunity to live just a little better than the day before and try our best to make our way in this world.  Through the ups and downs, the good and bad, the laughter and tears we go on and we try everyday to make the day the best one we ever lived.

So go on, make this day the best one of your life.  Don’t let anything hold you back.

Thanks for listening.

Anne

Comments

[Tanya]

You have definitely captured the simplicity and the magic of childhood. It leaves one with a sense of longing for the days full of hope and optimism and simplicity. There was a brightness in those days. How lovely!

[Paul Maurice Martin]

In some cases, like my own progressive illness, untreatable and lately accelerating rapidly, the next day honestly can't be better than the day before.

But even then, I agree with the spirit of what you're saying - that doing your best with every remaining day is the only way to go with no regrets.