"Everything is defined by what it is not"  lillymongoose
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Joined: Mar 2006 |
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1. Fireflies:: My sister and I used to sit on the steps in the early evening, waiting for twilight when the fireflies would come out. The scent of fresh cut grass, the singing crickets and tree frogs, the blossoming dogwoods and azaleas, and the golden blinking of the first firefly of the night--that's what I remember most. We were goddesses, dressed in sheer gowns of rose petals and iridescent raindrops, laughing and chasing the lightening bugs, carefully placing them in our fairy lanterns. Afterwards we would lie on the grass, counting to see who had caught the most. Being polite children, we always thanked them for playing with us and released them into the night so they could return to the Moon Mother ~~
2. Rain Dancing:: As a child I was fascinated by storms and loved the heavy stillness just before a downpour. It would grow very quiet outside and the sky would take on a purplish grey color with multi-colored streaks racing through it. Then the wind would start to blow, and the trees begin to sway wildly. And finally the rain would spill down. My sister and I would put on our swimsuits and run out in the rain and dance around until someone would eventually start telling us about being struck by lightening and make us come inside. I had read somewhere that lightening loved people with red hair and that red-haired witches made powerful weather mages. This, of course, fascinated me to no end because I have blonde hair, and I would stretch out my arms and try to call the lightening to me. Sometimes it would crack down very close, sending my sister and I jumping backwards. My sister would shiver in nervous exhilaration and cry in fear that I would die ~~
3. Being An Artist:: The soft chalky feel of pastels, the roughness of charcoal, the misty flow of watercolors, and the smudgy smoothness of pencils -- drawing always made me feel fierce and dreamy and passionately alive. Whenever I sat down to create something, the rest of the world simply melted away leaving only pure imagination and sensation. I was never satisfied with anything I actually produced because it never matched what I saw in my mind. But the process of creating was my passion ~~. I used to pretend that I would one day be an amazing artist and I would travel to exotic places with just my sketchbook and a little suitcase. I would stay for a while in each place, working small odd jobs and drawing the people I met, astonishing them with my talent. Inevitably someone would fall in love with me, and we would have a brief but intense romance before I sadly had to move on again. Dramatic little creature, aren't I? Anyway I miss that feeling of losing myself in something beautiful and being perfectly in the moment ~~
4. Living The Magic:: After I lost my sister, I evolved into a private, magical world that no one could touch. I was now a solitaire goddess without my twin and I looked after ladybugs and caterpillars, mermaids who sang starfish back to life, and high-spirited horses that could run faster and fly higher than any mortal. I feasted on acorns, chestnuts, and blackberries and drank honey from honeysuckle blossoms. My friends were the King of Cats, the White Owl, and the ancient Fae Oak People who lived in our woods. If a breeze caught up a whirlwind of autumn leaves, I knew it was the spirit of my sister playing with me. I called on Pixies to help with the housework and left offerings of walnut shells filled with peanut butter or honey for the Faerie Folk. I found that I could wake up my sister in dreams at night, and we learned how to sleepy travel together to other realms through our love and my imagination. I miss the freedom of trusting the imagination and being open to the unexpected. I forget sometimes how worlds open up for people who are not afraid, even if just for a moment, to look and believe. This is why I fear nothing. For me, the best part of being a child is the ability to look at the most ordinary and instead see it as the extraordinary ~~
5. My Grandparents:: It amazes me how much I still miss them, even as an adult. Admittedly my memories are fragile -- I had them for such a short time that they are like paper dolls with little substance to flesh them out. I have to rely on photos and my grandfather's paintings and the memories of my sister to make them real. My grandfather I remember the best because he was what I like to term as an Irish bar philosopher. I can close my eyes and almost feel his hand in mine as we walked through the woods together, gathering armfuls of Queen Anne's Lace. Or see myself working beside him on my own little easel while he paints. My grandmother?s memories conjure up the sensation of being held and being touched and even that is almost gone now. But I have her legacy. Recently someone found me on the internet and has been sending me emails about our similar lifestyles. It's been such a bittersweet experience. Sometimes I get a little depressed to hear about another person?s memories and the deep sense of family and connectedness that they have and I don?t have. And yet I love the sharing of it with me now. So conflicting... Last week, this person saw a photo taken of me standing on a mountain ledge and leaning into the wind with my grandparents along side watching me. This person gave me a gift with the simple statement of much I look like my grandmother. And it made me realize that even if my memories fade away my grandparents left me a legacy to know them by. All I have to do is gaze into the looking glass to see it all ~~ | |
azrial_x
| Memories flood through my mind like a swollen river ready to burst. They rage through my mind in sleep and dream, and then find their way out during my waking hours only to clutter my thoughts as silent reminders of the days of old. It is hard to recall so many childhood memories, so many moments of fantasy and adventure beheld within the eyes of a child. So long has it been since I have seen through those eyes and longer still to have held such innocence tightly within my heart.
1: It is that innocence I so desperately miss from my childhood, when love was fleeting and never so complex. You had a girl/boyfriend during your first recess and then broke up just after the last. No pain and no heartache only the simple joking sessions with your buddies about your day long romance after school. The crush on a grade school teacher you though was pretty, because she made you feel that you were important and aspired you to reach new heights of inspiration and creativity. Or, the artistic masterpiece one could create with a crayon, glue, glitter, scissors, your mother?s favorite dress, and construction paper.
2: I miss fighting dragons and rescuing princess with my friends in the woods out side their house. Traveling adventures who explored the great unknown reaches of the wilderness; where only fools would dare tread. When one?s BMX racer was a trusty steed, a broom handle your lance, and a tree branch a trusty sword. Water balloons were deadly fire balls and ice cold Kool-Aid was the elixir that healed one?s wounds taken from the day?s fierce battles with evil.
3: I, like Lilly, remember my love of Thunder Storms and the Furies of Nature. I miss my old home in Northwest Oklahoma, and the power of the Storms of that region. I think often of stepping outside and looking at the monolith Thunder Heads that peeked above the deep purple of the cloud line. I loved the fear and anticipation that washed over me as I would sit on my roof and watch the dangerous ballet of Wall Clouds spinning over my head. Memories of watching a Storm cell literally roll and churn in the sky like a boiling pot of water or the soft waiving of satin sheets in the wind still linger in my mind. I lived for the calm during the Storm, waiting silently for the roar of a tornado that had landed on the ground and searching all around me in an effort to catch the first glimpse of this true Beast of Nature. And most of all, I too admired the power of lightening and the mighty clap of Thor?s hammer as he struck the Earth with his fury. I would stand in the rain, as its cool refreshment washed over my body, in hopes that Thor would bless me with his might and give to me his wondrous powers. Finally the fresh smell clean smell that always filled the air as the winds died down, and the lingering drops of water trickled from the trees and houses always gave me a new sense of being and a connection with the Earth I had forgotten.
4: The wondrous awe of seeing mountain ranges for the first time. The mighty Titans of rock that rose like fingers from the Earth to touch the sky above Her. I miss the exhilaration that came from looking out for miles around me at the top of Pike?s Peak, and feeling that I knew what it was like to be omnipotent. Looking out at the world from so high it was the closest I felt I would be to flying,. I miss the excitement of exploring the depths of Carlsbad Caverns and letting my imagination run way with me, hoping to find the dragon that may have lived there, or better yet his Keep with jewels and gold the likes that no man had ever seen. I miss looking at the world and it?s wonders from a child?s prospective.
5: Finally I come to my Grandfather?s both who have departed this world, but I will always feel around me and remember fondly within my heart. I miss them most of all. Each of them had their own quality and luster in life that I will never forget. My father?s dad gave to me a true appreciation for the working man/woman, discipline, and a true respect for all individuals both great and small. I miss listening to the stories of his life growing up in San Antonio, working on a farm with his brothers and sisters. Or, the tales of my father, my aunts, and uncles when they were children themselves and the hardships they all had to endure growing up as migrant workers in cotton fields. I miss listening to my grandfather play Tejano music with his brothers and his sons. Playing with my cousins and pretending I knew how to speak Spanish.
What I miss about my mother?s father, was his gentle nature. No one was beneath him, yet he was a strong and powerful stature of a man; 6? 5? tall and 200lbs of raw muscle. But even for his great strength a hug from him truly let you know just how much one were loved by him. I miss going out to his work shop and helping him carve, cut, and hammer wood into pieces of furniture that were not just objects of use but true works of art. I miss the sweet smell of fresh cut cedar and saw dust as he would cobble together yet another masterpiece. The man could grow anything in his garden and miss how proud I felt when he and I would tend to the garden or pick the season?s crop. My grandfather was a cook during the Korean war, and would wake up every Saturday and Sunday morning and cook the best breakfast I ever had. I miss the pancakes he would make me with little chocolate chip happy faces on them! I was his first grandchild, and he was very proud to always let me know that.
Most of all I know this. I will always admire my Grandfathers, for they taught me how to become a better man through overcoming adversity and having respect for others. They loved me, and I loved them in return. They are not dead to me, but always watching me grow to become the person they hoped I would one day become and achieve the happiness I sought out to seek in life. |
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Five things that I miss from my childhood
March 17, 2006 @ 05:43:47 am
