childhood

“As adults, we have forgotten most of our childhood. Not only it’s content, but it’s flavor.” –R.D. Lang

I was born in Texas. I remember sitting on my lawn all the time as a kid. I remember what it felt like when I was 3 and I was playing in an ant bed. The ants crawled up my stockings and were biting me and my mom was on the phone in the house and assumed I was dancing so simply gave me a thumbs up and continued to ignore me until I came to the house with my stockings around my ankles.
I remember walking to the park in front of the college down the block by myself and buying a Lime popsicle from the guy with the ice cream cart. I remember that it was sour but sweet and the ice would just fall apart in your mouth and I would always crave it. I remember my neighbors and the guy who would always make my mom and I come in so he could give us books and Sesame Street magazines. I remember sitting on the lawn trying to make a puppet show with friends. I remember using some lady’s furniture to make a clubhouse in the garage in the back with my friend without her knowing. Only to have her take all of her furniture back the next day. I remember my dad bringing home a dog without my mom knowing. I remember sitting on his lap eating Oreos with milk. I remember seeing my mom cry for the first time.
I remember my preschool. I remember the first day. We were at lunch outside because it’s Texas and the weather’s always perfect so we were always outside. I couldn’t open my chocolate pudding, the kind with the dark chocolate with the stripe of milk chocolate in the middle. I asked a boy to open it for me and he couldn’t so he offered to take it to the teachers to open it for me. He didn’t come back till the end of lunch and when he finally did, he had chocolate smeared on his mouth. And I could feel the tears welling up behind my eyes. I remember sitting in class learning how to set a table the proper way. I remember when my friend and I thought we should find the best rock and the way we would judge whether or not it was the best rock was to see if it could fit in our ears. I would put the rocks in my ear, and after an excruciating period of rock judging, we found the perfect rock. It fit perfectly in my ear. And then I couldn’t get it out, and none of the teachers could either, so my mom had to come pick me up and I remember she was in a suit and had to pull it out with tweezers in the bathroom. I remember when they would give us snacks of celery with peanut butter on it with raisins on top. It was called Frogs on a Log. I remember dragging my dad to the playroom in school making him watch a play I forced my friends to do, even though I pretty much played every character because they couldn’t do it right. I remember when kids would come in with home made lemonade icees and they tasted so good I would try to make them at home but they just never turned out right. I remember my Dad’s girlfriend refusing to bring me lunch. I remember she had really long red nails. The kind that are so long that they start to curve. And her lipstick always matched her nail color and I hated her.
When I see pictures, I can remember specific details about maybe that dress or that place or that person. Theres a picture of me, I was probably around 7, visiting my Dad in Texas. I was getting ready because he was going to take me to a Spice Girls concert, my first concert ever. We had to dress up like one of the members of the band and I chose to dress liek sporty spice. I wore sweat pants and a top and my stepmom put my hair up in a high ponytail. To complete the look, I neededmy dad to draw a tattoo on my arm that matches hers. I remember standing there for a long time watching him draw it on my arm. I was so scared he would mess it up, and when he didn't I was so amazed. My Dad could do anything.
When I look at the picture, I remember that shirt I was wearing and those pants. I feel like I could go in my drawers and be able to find it. I remember the apartment my dad and stepmother were living at at the time. I remember being so excited.
I remember a lot about my childhood. I remember big events and I remember little things. I remember the way things smelled and the way they tasted and the way it felt and the way I felt. I know I remember a lot about my childhood, especially when I sit down and try to think about it. My childhood is what has made me, so I’m not surprised that it comes so detailed to me. The major events in my childhood are what have altered the way I feel, act, think now. Even though, as I try to think of what events may have impacted me the most, the most negative memories come to mind, I know it’s the small good memories that have helped along the way as well. They seemed so much more important at the time. They were what mattered. Not until I got older did I realize that I was just too young to understand the impact of certain things and that the fact that I didn’t get the exact Barbie that I wanted wasn’t going to be the thing that would change me forever.