Wednesday, April 2, 2008


I remember my childhood as a happy time with all the usual sorts of things. Mostly, I remember moments; not necessarily profound or important moments, but just random occurrences.

I remember coloring in the living room on a Saturday afternoon with the brown, wooden shades up and the windows open while Daddy listened to one football game on the radio and watched another on the television. I remember the tone and inflection and quality of Jim Fyffe's voice coming from the big speakers and the smells of an early fall afternoon and Lemon Pledge and Bold laundry detergent. I remember how the warm breeze felt. I don't remember how many times this happened or what pictures I colored or who won the games or even who was playing (I know now that if Jim Fyffe was announcing that Auburn was playing, but I didn't know that then).

I remember, I don't know how I remember this, but I remember being three and laying my head on Mama's very pregnant tummy while she read a book to me and Jr(my younger brother, the middle child). She was pregnant with the youngest of us, my baby brother (BB). I remember the firmness of her tummy and the cool, silky fabric of her nightgown. I think I remember the nightgown being blue. I remember the brown and cream floral pattern with tiny blue flowers and large flowers that were different shades of brown and, maybe, birds, and the soft velour-like upholstery of the couch in the living room. I don't remember why we weren't in the den where we normally gathered as a family.

I remember going to my Aunt Ola's house and being torn between playing with the boys and watching her cross-stitch or knit. I remember that her house was always so tidy, and it smelled different than our house, like Surf detergent, and they always had Doritos. I remember all the beautiful pictures she had made and thinking she was so tall. She wasn't tall, maybe an inch or so taller than my mom, but she left that impression on me. I remember secretly wanting to be one of her students because I was just so sure that she made her classes interesting.

I remember my Aunt Dot and her family coming to visit from Texas. It was the first time I remember meeting my youngest cousin. I remember him sitting on the kitchen table that my grandfather made. We always had a table cloth on it, and it was painted black, and he was sitting there next to the windows with the yellow curtains. I remember being so impressed that he was so little and could tell us his name and that he lived in "Tywer, Tekthath". I remember being consumed by curiosity about wherever she lived because she lived in places I had no direct knowledge of.

I remember playing with all of my Aunt Carol's bracelets, rings, and necklaces and being fascinated by the jewelry she wore. I remember her painting my nails with a nail polish pen, the purple carpet and furry table covers in her bedroom and spending the night, sleeping in her water bed, and her Tupperware collection. I remember how grown-up she always made me feel.

I remember my Aunt Joyce calling me her "sweet girl". I remember petting her cat, Sheba, who had the prettiest long white fur. I remember the scent of her perfume and that I could smell it on my clothes long after she'd hugged and kissed me. I loved that smell. I remember the red deck in her backyard and the deep hot tub that was sunken into it and going to church, waiting on a warm Sunday morning on the sidewalk in front of our house, feeling so special for getting to go with her, and the chicken casserole with pimientos she made. I'd never known what pimientos were before.

I remember being jealous when of my brothers when they had the chicken pox. It was warm, Spring or early Fall, and I came home from school to find them sitting in the floor of the kitchen, leaning against the refrigerator, eating/drinking Mama's Icee's. They were really just orange juice and ice blended together in the blender, but they were one of our favorite treats along with "peanut butter balls" which were globs of peanut butter on long-handled teaspoons dipped in sugar.

I could go on forever with these memories of small moments and feelings, but there are too many to list. I remember so many wonderful little things and very few bad things because the good in my life has always overwhelmed the tiny amount of bad. I could devote an entire blog to memories of my childhood and post an entry every day for a hundred years and still have more to share. I've smiled the entire time I've been typing this post.

I don't know why my grandparents and other aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, etc. didn't make it in this post today, but I just typed as I think, in random order. I'll post another memories entry soon because this one doesn't have all the things in it that I want to share, and because I've enjoyed today's post so much.

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