O the mind of childhood.. Where we would stay for hours biking or making a house between a few trees just because we could and it was sunny and what else would we rather do? How the shadows deepened and finally dusk fell over our messy hair and dusty faces. With cicadas calling out in contented hum we trudged inside to cool air after the humid blanket of the outdoors. Mom’s voice called out, “Supper!” And we were happy. Not so much to leave the blackness but just that we had a place to go when tired and hungry.
Home was where our people were; not a place. It’s the ones who know you the best and somehow also love you the most. That safe place where bedtime and dinner came and went without us noticing much either way. Summers stretched out long into the hazy distance, while the only worries were if the bees buzzing near the pool were gonna try and bite me or hoping there was at least one of those blue popsicles left.
Hard to pinpoint, memories of back then are one blur of happiness. Security was taken for granted, along with tramps through the woods and fields. “Treasures” were clutched in hands that I’m sure we cluttered the house with. Now there are some days I wish for that carefree time.
But those days stay up there on that certain shelf in my mind, to take down and think over while life hurries on, at a pace hardly real. I guess that’s how it’s meant to be, each stage in life blending into the next so seamlessly we hardly notice until we look back and wonder where all the time has gone…
~réflexions de ma soeur
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