When I Was Young
When I was young, life was slow and times were different.I picked dandelions from the lawn and gifted them to my mom who always accepted them like bouquets of roses .I wandered outside collecting sticks and rocks or made chalk designs on the driveway watching my shadow grow taller as the hours passed; the sun moving languidly across the sky. Sometimes in the late afternoon my father and brother would come out and we'd play PIG or HORSE at the basketball hoop attached to the garage; each one of us making up more outlandish shots trying our best to be the last one to earn a letter.I had picnics perched on the wide flat ledges that jutted out in the middle of a river. The rush of the running water filling my ears and swirling around my dangling ankles; sneakers and socks carefully removed. My chin dipped into the cold liquid while I crouched and slurped; washing my sandwich down before I walked up the big hill, through the neighbor's field and across the road back home. I chased fireflies, barefoot with my brother on warm summer nights with no need for a flashlight because our dad taught us how night vision lets us see in the dark. Hands clasped around the glass canning jar with holes carefully hammered into the metal lid so I could marvel at the glowing back end of the black winged insects inside. I disappeared in the tall grass, happy in my own private world; eyes up, back flat, knees bent; conjuring cloud creatures high above swimming in a bright blue sky. I ate stalks of ruby red rhubarb after pulling them out of the ground and stripping the ruffled green leaves away. Puckering my lips on each bite; after the sweet sugar from the little paper Dixie cup in my hand melted in my mouth. I hammered together little houses made from scraps of wood rescued from the scrap pile in my father’s workshop; constructing sprawling cities and towns for plastic army men and matchbox cars to live in. I sat in the sandbox which spread out at the base of a towering blue spruce tree and scraped holes in the hard dirt with an old spoon making tunnels and ponds for my little brother to find muddy magic in.I built shelters out of tree limbs and cooked skunk cabbage stew on a tree stump stove in an old pot with a rusted out bottom salvaged from the dump at the edge of the swamp in the backyard. Sometimes I'd float bark boats down the little stream until they disappeared through the tunnel under the road.I learned how to run and jump onto the round wooden seat of the rope swing that hung from the oak tree at the edge of the pond. Whirling around in grand circles at dizzying heights clasping my ankles together and holding on tightly as the the earth slipped away in a blur beneath my feet.I walked through the crunching leaves keeping time with my dad’s longer legs listening as he named woodpeckers or chickadees and crows. Looking at tree leaves and bark until we found the smooth black birch and broke off twigs to chew on. I dug earthworms in the chicken yard at night; slipping them squirming into the dirt in an old paint can fashioned into a pail with a bit of wire where they waited for me to wrestle them onto a fish hook so I could try my luck at catching the pumpkin seeds or perch in the pond; never quite matching the patience of my older brother or grandfather who waited to land the big bass. When I was young, life was slow and times were different. How would you complete the statement, When I was young…..?
I’d love to hear about a memory you treasure from your youth. Please visit me over on Instagram and send me a DM or reach out through the e-mail found in the contact section of this site.
