Before anyone reads any further into my blog, they should know where I come from. I come from a land of ice and snow, as they say. I also come from a land that really only exists in my own head.
I don't think it will be easy to tell everyone all about my life, and I have a feeling it might take more than one post to get it all out in the open, but I'm willing to give it a shot.
The memories I have of being a child are very few. I remember our yard, when I was three, and loving that we had many trees to play in. Weeping Willows, I learned when I was older. I played in the branches for hours, until my mom would call me into the house or my Grandpa Roy would come to visit. When he came to visit (during my Grandma Mavis' shifts at work), I would squeal and then run into the house for a stack of books. I always wanted to be read to, and he was always delighted to read to me. The higher the stack, the better, according to Grandpa Roy. He read me them all.
When Grandma Mavis retired from the nursing home, Grandpa Roy didn't visit us as often. His readings were fewer, and Mom didn't have two hours a day to devote to my stories, and she bought me some books on tape. Disney, mostly. My favorites were Bambi and The Fox and the Hound. (Now, every time I look at Huck I think, "I'm a Hound Dog!") I listened to them all the time, and read along with the pictures and words.
I remember the first time that reading really "Clicked" with me. I was in the third grade, and we were reading "Socks" by Beverly Cleary. I'm very into animals, and I think I always have been. Mom says that she was always worried about me as a toddler, for fear that I'd wander off and try to make friends with a rabid racoon, or a bear. I believe her. I would still like to make friends with a rabid racoon, or a bear. One could say it's a lifelong dream.
Perhaps you could tell me (on your own blog, unless you don't have one) the start of the story that you think defines you as you. I'd love to read it. If you feel like it, send me the link. You know I'm always interested in that sort of thing.
4 comments:
What a beautiful post! I love willow trees too, and that dates back to my childhood also. Your lovely prose inspires me to think about thinking about what defines me as me, but either a) I don't have a clue who I am even at this late stage in the game, or b) I've never really thought about it in those terms. Or a combination of a) and b). And/Or, I've spent most of my life rebelling against my formative years and blocking them from my memory. Good food for thought, Sunny. Thanks!
Bears have nice smiles!
Perhaps I can discuss my defining moment in a Wednesday post... Though, my childhood wasn't quite half-assed. Maybe I should keep it important instead of delegating it the Wednesday posts I share...
Excellent thinking material. And, of course, a lovely story to get us there.
I will put up something on mine next week I think, well, prolly this weekend. I liked yours, by the way.
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