Childhood Memories…

Childhood memories are a funny thing. We have good ones and bad ones and as many as we have, it seems our parents have even more.

I swear my Mom pulls the most embarrassing stories out of nowhere at the drop of a hat. Like that damn flamingo tie I used to wear when we went to the symphony together. You’d think it was the only article of clothing I had from ages 12-17 as often as she brings it up.

She recently brought up the time when I was 5 and I kept stealing cherries –one at a time- off the cherry cheesecake she made, thinking she wouldn’t notice. Yeah, apparently I ended up eating them all. And she noticed.

Don’t remember that one.

We all have certain special memories though, ones that really stand out. That one day or that one thing or moment we think back on that brings a smile to our face. Some are stupid and insignificant to anyone but ourselves, yet some we barely remember and others will never forget.

Whether we cherish them, hate them, laugh or cry about them, they’re there and always will be.

I remember one day –I must have been around 10 or so- some friends and I decided to ride our bikes out to this little creek. I don’t recall if it was raining when we left, but it was certainly pouring when we got there.

We tossed our bikes on the side of the road, walked down to the creek and jumped right in, clothes and all.

The mud had to have been a foot deep and I remember jumping around and playing in it thinking “this is the best day I’ve ever had” and, while life has brought me many more memorable and much happier days (in my adult mind), I’ll never forget laying in that mud, staring up into the sky and being 100% genuinely happy.

I remember sitting on my Mom’s sewing room floor and telling her my legs were “two feet long.”

I remember walking home from work one day in the rain when I was 18 and a giant raindrop hit me square in the middle of the head.

I don’t know why I remember that, but I do, and every time a big raindrop hits me in the head, I wonder if I’ll remember it the way I remember that one from 24 years ago.

I never do.

I have a million other memories and believe me, most would bore you to tears (like I’m not already doing that?) but there’s also much I don’t remember from my youth.

I wish I had more pictures…

I sometimes wish I had a better memory so I could look back on my youth and smile about it more than I already do, but if I did, would that lessen the degree of sentiment I carry for the memories I do have?