remember the moments

Yesterday, Will was jumping around the living room with this little red Nerf-type ball. He was batting it back and forth, tossing it between his legs, rolling it and then diving sideways trying to catch it, all the while making little straining noises. I watched him in fascination and finally realized what he looked like: a puppy. He looked like a gangly, rough-and-tumble, bouncy, clumsy, cuddly, ball-of-energy puppy.
“You look like a puppy!” I told him and I grabbed the ball and threw it in the corner. “Fetch!” I said.
And he did. He bounded over to that ball, picked it up in his teeth and brought it back to me.
I hadn’t laughed so hard in days.

We went to visit my mom and dad last night after dinner. While we were there, Dad’s best friend called. He grew up with Chuck, they were neighbors and they went all through school together and started college together but my dad transferred out to Ohio State. Then they were both in the Navy, though not together. Chuck lives in California now but, like all my parents’ friends, he checks in regularly and is completely broken up, not to say consumed, with my dad’s illness. I answered the phone last night when he called and we talked a little about Japan. He told me some stories about his adventures with my dad in Japan while they were in the Navy and then a little story about college when they got in trouble and were called in to the Dean’s office. Not too many details, because I think even Chuck thinks that Dad will get better and share these stories with us himself.

So I said to my dad, “Chuck told me a story about when you were in college and you both got in trouble and had to go talk to the Dean. What’d you do, Dad?”
And he just smiled. I could so tell that he was remembering that and it made him happy.
Of course, it made me happy, too, but then on the way home, heading out the driveway, down our old country road, past the barns and fields and trees and over the creek, it made me sad…

We started watching this version of As You Like It I tivoed on PBS and as I sat there, concentrating fiercely on what they were saying, I remembered that when we were little and my parents “made” us watch Shakespeare on PBS, they always got my mom’s copy of the plays out of the bookshelf so we could follow along. Somehow, that made it ok, then…
This version of As You Like It is set in late 19th century Japan so we are doubly interested and Todd really wants to watch w/me. I suggested getting my Shakespeare book out so maybe the next time we catch a few minutes of it (because rarely do we ever watch 2 1/2 hours of any movie in one sitting), I’ll dig out my giant volume of Shakespeare’s works.

My dad used to tell us that when he was little, he went so high on the swings (in the park or at the school playground) that they went right over the top.
I always believed him, but now I’m pretty sure he was making it up. I mean, doesn’t everybody’s dad tell them that?

My father used to swim under the water in the pool, swirling around our legs, grabbing at them like we supposed a shark would. Oh, the delicious fright and screaming! Oh, the feeling of childhood safety and utter sweet happiness of playing in the chlorine blue of a hotel pool with my dad while my mom clutched the side and kicked, giggled if she got her hair wet or sat out on a chair, reading or just watching us…

at my parents’ house. After language class on Tuesday, we went out to visit and hear the results of Dad’s tests and then yesterday I took Sophie and Will there to hang out with mom while I went to do an errand.

Mom and I were talking about how none of the Spring flowers bloomed right this year: lilacs, peonies and now even the roses are acting funny. Mom said the Chinese lilac was blooming but only at the top. It always does bloom later and is a bona fide tree along the driveway. I had parked the car out front and when I stuffed the kids in, I stopped and lifted my head. I could smell that Chinese lilac, even though there really were only a few blooms at the top. The smell brought summer rushing back. I was again a kid of maybe 8, 9, 10, 11… sitting on the front porch on a June evening waiting for lightning bugs to emerge and be captured in jars. Heading across the yard to go on one of our long picnic/exploring adventures down the country road, riding our bikes around and around the driveway in some elaborate “town” we thought up. Playing hide and seek in the dark with my dad…

I stopped there for just a few seconds, let that scent fill my head.
But there were 2 kids of my own, begging my attention. Have to get my fill of memories and summer in little minute-long bits…

Saturday, we checked in on the library’s book sale. Back in the old days, even when I worked there just 8 years ago, they kept books in the basement. This is very bad for books: dampness, mold, bugs etc. But this was before they added the new wing and they really had nowhere else to store them. The good part was they were children’s books and so we, as kids, could spend hours down there talking, laughing, reading, picking out books. We would ride our bikes into town in the summer and hang out at the library and then on the way home, stop at the little old grocery on the edge of town. This place has since been torn down which is a shame because it was great: a completely old-fashioned, small-town sort of place in one of those old buildings with the tall front that you just don’t see anymore. I don’t remember it selling anything but beer and candy. We didn’t go for the beer, of course, but often stood for quite a long time agonizing over what candy to buy: taffy, gum, candy cigarettes…you know, the good stuff.

Anyway, it was the smell in the basement of that library that I wanted to focus on. We spent so much time down there (and then again when I worked there) that that smell became something we were used to. I’m sure it was the smell of damp carpet and old moldy books. Cool, wet concrete and bricks. But we didn’t realize that then, of course, and we wouldn’t have cared anyway. So Saturday as I made my way through the maze of rooms to the back room where the sale books lined the shelves, I became aware of that smell. And even as Sophie and Will whined to go back upstairs, I stood there breathing in the familiar scent from childhood. There was only a whiff of it; the back door was open and a teenaged boy was moving boxes in and out and of course, books are no longer stored down there for great lengths of time, literally soaking up moisture off the bottom row of shelves, but that smell lingers nevertheless. It’s not a bad smell to me. In fact, it’s probably good that I only got that little whiff or I might have stood there too long, breathing it in as other patrons milled around me and Sophie and Will made their own ways upstairs.

It made me want to spend all morning down there, searching for the perfect book. It made me want to get on my bike and ride back out of town (stopping for some taffy on the way) and pedal as fast as I could down our country road to beat my sisters home and start reading…

As we snuggled in bed last night, Sophie asked when we could walk down to the creek. This was a weekly excursion last spring. Sophie was in preschool only 3 days a week and Sarah worked from home so Sophie, Will and I would drive to her house and then walk the half mile to the creek, usually to clamber down the bank and wade in the shallow, bubbly water. We rolled up our pants and kicked off our flip-flops and skipped stones and found old shells and cool rocks. It was so wonderful to feel that spring-cold water on our white ankles and the sun on our heads as it shone down through the leaves. Then we’d pull ourselves up the grassy creekbed and trudge back to Sarah’s for a snack. The walk home is slightly uphill and a little tiring especially for the moms as the preschoolers were most often in strollers.

The creek and the road it crosses are special to all our family. The house my great-great grandfather built when he first moved here from New England was on this road until it burned (my dream is to build a house in the same spot when we return from Japan) and the road is bordered by fields on both sides that my father still farms. This is where I roamed as a child and I know the paths and trees, the hills and dips, the way the sky meets the horizon, like the back of my hand. This was my backyard.

Sophie thought of the creek because she is on spring break this weekend and is home during the day. She asked me this and as soon as she said it, I realized that I miss it, too. I miss the feeling of freedom after a cold winter. I miss a spring breeze rustling inside our open sweatshirts. I miss the exercise and the feeling of the blood starting to pump. And that cold water swirling around our ankles, over our toes as we balance on the mossy rocks.
But what finally struck me the most is how I immediately longed for the walk, too. I wanted it for all the above reasons but I also wanted it because Sophie wanted it and I realized that, as a parent, we start to long for and enjoy the things that our children want. I want to show her all this and watch her enjoy it. I want to share with her how important it is to me, too, and know that she loves that feeling of the wind and the water and the rocks and the noise of the trees swaying overhead…

I missed my 43t anniversary. For some reason, I had it in my head that I first discovered 43things on April 28, 2006 but I just looked it up and it was on March 28! So I missed it!
Happy Late Anniversary to me!
Anyway, my first cheer went to someone named KathyMP who doesn’t look very active and the first cheer I got came from weathergirl. But my second cheer and the second cheer I received both came from a lovely 43thinger called Waterfall Nymph. Anyone know her? heh heh…
How lucky I am to have found 43things and all the fun, funny, supportive, diverse and wonderful people here.

i can remember the day my son was born, he was the size of a loaf of bread.i can clearly remember the first time we looked into each others eyes, the feeling of such love i never knew possible, and then today at the school bus stop my 5 year old son gives me a hug and kiss as the bus approaches, and he says mommy i love u !these are the days i want to remember, they do grow so quick!