Man, I've been laying in bed just thinking...and I can't seem to stop the thoughts. For the past two hours I have been going through flashbacks of my much younger years. So much so that I had to get up and write it down in hopes it is somewhat intelligible.
My first memories was recalling the lay out of my elementary school. It was just so weird to be thinking about all the details that I could envision, the number of classrooms, what classroom specifically I was in at various grades. I recalled where the various bathrooms were and the water fountains, as well as fondly remembering all of my teachers. Then I recalled the few spaghetti dinners my mom allowed us to go to. I had to somewhat beg her to go to a spaghetti dinner here or there because she couldn't stand those kinds of school functions, especially having been the last of her five kids. She thought she was out of the woods with those events. Sorry, Ma, to have had to put you through it all over again!
Then...my mind wandered off to when my parents took me to Europe with them, specifically to Austria for a three week vacation. It was the summer of my third year at the local junior college. Wow! I saw myself walking in the woods of the little village we called 'home base' for the three weeks. I was transported back to my room I shared with a girlfriend, that my parents allowed to come with us. The great conversations we had there, the smell of the clean, air-dried feather beds we slept on and those that also covered us. The recollection of just walking the narrow streets of this village and being amazed that I was across the globe, thanks to my parents, and enjoying the amazing Austrian Alps. I was in heaven and singing, quite literally, the 'hills are a live with the sound of music!' Oh, what fun and such freedom I felt among this amazing and beautiful Austrian village. It was truly breathtaking for me... As I write all of this, I realize that I still go back to that time when things get rough in side me and I feel a sense of freedom, happiness, and awe at all that I experienced and enjoyed while there. Thank you, Ma and Pa!
My next movie frame is the old house we used to live in. I pretty much grew up in the house on Palmyra Street. We came to Auburn when I was six and then we moved from that house, so my parents could build their new, architecturally designed and energy efficient home, across town, until my junior year in high school.
Of late, I have been back to this house a thousand times. I've had many dreams of it in various perspectives from when I was really young and where I am now in life. It's been very eerie actually. There have been times those dreams were SO vivid that I was actually reliving those moments, those periods of time and I recall not wanting to awake from my state of dreaming. I remember being happy, carefree, playing outside until it was time to come in for dinner, doing gymnastics on the front lawn, and looking for our dog Charlie when he got out of the house or back yard.
I was remembering where my mom parked her blue Mercedes and where my dad parked his red Mercedes. I remember the days when much of my family would play baseball together in our huge back yard. Or when I got in trouble for riding my bike in the street, after being told I could not, and being sent to my room. I was so mad, not because I couldn't ride my bike, but because my friend Brennan was suppose to be coming over to play with me, and here I was being punished in my room, with the window that faced the patio where the basketball hoop was kept. And I had to watch Brennan shoot baskets without me. What a ding-a-ling.
I loved the times when my brother Dan and I would throw the football or tennis ball in the middle of the street. And always knew he was so proud of me because I threw a ball like a boy and could throw it pretty far for a girl. But when it came to basketball, he was the white man's version of Kareem Abdul Jabar! At least he always thought so (I just chuckled as I wrote that). Unfortunately, I was not made to play basketball with any real significant talent, but that didn't matter to my brother, we just had a good time hanging out, and he showing off all of his shots.
I always called myself the roller skating queen, simply because I thought I was.
I loved to roller skate and during those days, kids were allowed to go anywhere and come home at a specific time. I would roller skate down our hill toward the local recreation park. Actually, I was afraid every time I skated down that hill, simply because I feared I would totally biff it before I got down the bottom of the asphalted road and it would bloody hurt. But fortunately I always made it and was off and skating to my hearts content. Now I was never ashamed about falling or having fallen in front of others simply because I knew I was a good skater and that when I fell, I had just done a stupid mistake or tripped on a small pebble I hadn't seen, etc. So my pride was never hurt. I would just laugh it off. I still do that to this day.
One of the best part was when the gym would be open to skaters and then the REAL skating began. This automatically transported me back to when the music group ABBA was huge. Roller skating was huge during this time and the ultimate fun was when the local gym would have skating hours. This was a time when much of our neighborhood kids would come hang out. We'd rock and roll to ABBA, do some serious speed skating and crash in to each other. We'd be sweating and have to go into the girls' bathroom and dry ourselves off from all the sweat that had poured forth on our bodies. Wow! What memories... "Dancing Queen, only seventeen..."
So, as of late, I don't know why I have been thinking about all of my childhood adventures. I keep wondering if other people my age are having these episodes as well or is it just me? Is it the beginning to my mid-life crisis? I just keep wondering and guessing but have no answers, yet is so fascinating to me. I am thoroughly enjoying this trip and look forward to more sleepless nights and memories to relive.
I've been up since 2am now and am realizing this is not good. Not good at all. I've got two 2 years-old to keep up with (now) today. So, I better hit the hay for a little cat nap. Thankfully, the kiddles are not early risers. Yippee!
