"When the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a
thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the
beginning of fairies."
J.M. Barrie
I am pretty sure that J.M. Barrie was one of the greatest writers of childhood that will ever be known to this world. But of course this is only my humble opinion on the subject. My childhood was so full of fairies, magic and dreams that I am sure that I will never truly grow out of it. This keeps me from pleasing just any young man from off the street but, to be honest, if he has no imagination whatsoever, I am not so sure we could fit very well together at all.
Often, I read fairy tales and consequently dreamed of the day "my prince would come" and I would fall in love, get married and have babies just as my own mother had. But then I would run off with my older brother, climb apple trees and get scrapes on my knees and splinters in my fingers and would have to go to my mother to get them out with a pair of tweezers.
If you have not caught on just yet, I am about to take a short trip down childhood memory lane.
For those newcomers and readers of my blog, the last 19 posts (soon to be 20) have all been based around a list of 30 questions as seen here:
http://cherishinghopesanddreams.blogspot.com/2012/01/30-things.html
Not going to lie. I have really enjoyed answering the vast majority of these questions and have found myself really assessing the things that I have done thus far in my life. It is fun to explore the answers to these questions and hopefully I have shed some light on the person I am for those who do not quite understand me or who simply have wanted to get to know me. Granted some will be learning more than they probably bargained for at first but I always love to hear when someone has chosen to take a few minutes and read what I have written and thought about.
So, without further ado...
Describe three significant memories of your childhood:
1. The first memory would have to be a small clump of memories to be honest-- those would be the memories I have of spending time with my older brother. Everything from Couches and Lava to making up ninja personae for ourselves (which we drew pictures of, of course...) that we took more time making up than actually acting as, are bright spots in my childhood memories. When he would take time just to play with me I always felt so very special. And I am also sure that he definitely helped my creative side that now displays itself in my writing. Nowadays when we aren't bickering (haha) there are definite effects from the times we would stay up talking until our parents would have no more of it. We might not always see eye to eye but we do often enough and love each other enough that when we do set to catching up and asking for thoughts on our life situations... it is often as if we were back in those bunk beds, on top of those snow hills or hiding in the shrubbery next to the cyclone wire type fence. I love him and would not trade those memories for anything.
2. Another batch of memory surrounds the time spent with my family in the reading of books. There were a handful of books that my mother read aloud to us but the longest stretching would be the reading aloud of Harry Potter. Mom had thought it would be a great book to engage Jer and my interest's and eventually our younger siblings' as well but oft times we would gather to read it together after a long day of school and she would ask us to refresh her on where we were ("we" meaning everyone but her... she always read ahead much to our irritation and jealousy... and sometimes dismay when she would give a small detail away that we would always forget, of course, before it actually got to that part in the reading). We would even read these books together in the car on our way to vacation destinations. This has had a lot of effect on my love of reading and also that of reading aloud to someone-- partaking in the journey of the book with someone else as they drive.
I most definitely plan on doing this with my future husband because of the good memories I have with it and the love and unity I have felt through the practice.
3. Lastly, I turn to a memory of baking. There was a certain Sister Hathaway who lived down the street from us in one of our houses in Burney, CA. I am not even sure how it started, but I often went to her house and helped her in the baking of chocolate chip cookies (always). One time we even forgot the eggs until the very last step before the chocolate chips and also forgot to cover the bowl with a towel before turning on the mixer--- this particular setup was ornery and would spit chocolate chips at high velocity across the kitchen.
While the cookies baked, I would join her daughter Abby for some coloring. She always left the skin on the girls in her coloring books blank and I would take joy in meticulously coloring them in carefully so as not to distract from the rest of the picture that had already been done so nicely.
Memories of Sister Hathaway are incredibly tender to my heart though I haven't really talked to her in years. I also remember laying my head in her lap at church after taking the Sacrament and she would stroke my hair and place random braids throughout the long brown waves.
Oh, I have so many more memories but I need sleep sometime tonight... perhaps another time?
"God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December."
J.M. Barrie
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