A Sleepy Girl's Thoughts on Life

My most missed memories...

...aren't from past relationships, high school prom, or even those all-night sleepovers where my friends and I used to belt out Spice Girls' songs.

My most missed memories come before all that. They take place by the creek in the woods behind my house, or in the mulch beds by the front door. They take place in the breezy days of spring and in the sweltering summers.

Those were the days when my sister and I would venture joyfully outside and unload our creativity on the world.

We'd throw on our mud boots and wade through the creek, marveling at the little schools of fish, water spiders and the ocassional crayfish. Then we'd snatch up our precious walnut shell boats and race them down one of the many rivulets of water, running alongside to catch them before they were swallowed up by the creek.

We'd stand on the gigantic tree trunk that had fallen across the rushing water, daring each other to jump off onto the small sliver of sandy beach and rocks. Then we'd venture across the tree to the other side of the creek, where we sometimes saw a mysterious "witch lady" who would creep up behind us with her german shepard and send us running.

We'd work meticulously for hours making mud pies and cakes. They were beautiful creations, garnished with leaves, flowers and even red berries from the wild Russian Olive trees. As our creations baked in the sun, we'd move on to the next game.

Maybe we'd hop on the swingset--she on the short swing and me on the taller one--and compete to see who could get the highest or go the fastest or touch the nearby tree branches the most times.

Other days we would pick "skunk cabbage" and onions from the swamp, or wild violets from the grass. We'd stir up caustic witches' brews in the big black cauldron our dad brought home one year for Halloween. We'd build little houses out of hay bales under the canopies of branches, and proclaim them as our own.

Or we'd move to the front yard, where we sat in the mulch beds sculpting out homes for our many toy animals. Those turtles, tigers, frogs, horses and dogs sure had it made in the shade of the hedges and flowers our parents had so carefully planted. They even had their own tin foil-lined swimming pools.

And after spending hours on end outside, covered in mud and muck and out of breath, we'd run inside for grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.

These days, my mom still makes me grilled cheese sometimes.

And it always takes me right back to the old times when everything was so simple. When my sister and I bonded over mud pies and walnut shell boats. When the world around us--the trees, the creek, even the red Virginia mud--was our playground.

We had an amazing childhood together, and it built the foundation for the close relationship we have today. And though I know we'll have many more good times, I don't think they can ever top the carefree summers we shared all those years ago.

The Russian Olive trees with the red berries have been long cut down now. The huge tree trunk over the creek has washed away. And now there are kids on motor bikes galavanting across the creek instead of the witch lady and her dog. But I still vividly remember what used to be--the feeling of wet mud on my hands, the putrid smell of the leafy green skunk cabbage, and the sound of my sister's laughter.

I will always remember those as some of the best days of my life.

posted by Sleepy Girl @ 10:10 AM