april 6, 2008

childhood memories are haunting me.

Sunday, April 6th, 2008

I am trying to hold myself back from writing so often. I don’t want to seem desperate, by any means. But… I can’t help it right now, for Lover is tunnel-visioned to the television & I have no alternative to do anything else. This is one of the major downfalls of having our studio apartment. It fits us (Lover, Sofie & myself) just perfectly, but any more than that & it can feel a little… crowded. There are really no places to sit, simply because the only places are our super comfortable couch (only seats 3) & this rickety dining chair that we’re using as a computer chair (Lover found it when we were really hard up for furniture. People were throwing out perfectly good furniture & we managed to obtain this horrible chair & this broken down coffee table, which we got rid of long ago. I hate the chair but… it’s a chair & I can sit in it, so that is all that matters). Another downfall to our tiny apartment is that the only room where there is a door to close is the bathroom. Otherwise, we are completely out in the open all the time. When there’s no need to want to have some privacy away from the blaring television or Lover’s computer games, this suits us just fine. But when there IS a need for privacy, we’re simply out of luck. I think that between the 2 of us, I am the one that craves privacy most. Lover is content with being right next to me, every second of every day, cuddling, kissing & holding each other. I adore affection from him, of course, but I will be the first one to try to go off on my own somehow & have a little thinking time. Even now, in the midst of the television being right next to the computer, I am clad iPod headphones blasting itunes, which is drowning out the sounds of battle cries from The Lord of the Rings perfectly. My sometimes isolation isn’t something new; even when I lived with my parents & had my own bedroom, that wasn’t enough seclusion for me, so I would often go for long drives around my little town. There is only a small part of me that misses my hometown. The rest of me is content with making & having a life here with Lover.

It’s not that my town was horrible, but it definitely wasn’t the pick of the bunch. There wasn’t anything to do, really, unless you really wanted to go miniature golfing (yawn) or… you could go to the bowling alley to bowl with the senior citizens & serious bowling champions (yawn). That was about it for assembled activities. Our mall — the size of a few Macy’s put together — didn’t count. Needless to say, I was always bored when I was growing up. Well… actually, when I hit 13 I was terribly bored of my town, but every age before that I was content with rolling around in dirt with my sister & making believe that we were racing our horses [bikes] against each other. That’s why being an adult is sometimes so annoying. I know that if I were 10, I would find all kinds of things to do with my time. You would never hear “I’m bored” escape my mouth because there are adventures to be had, & treasure to be found, & dollies to play with. My dearest companion & partner in crime was (& still is) my sister.

I remember there was this one time where we, my sister & I, were digging a hole in our backyard (we lived on a 1/2 acre, which being the age I am now doesn’t seem so big, but when you’re 7, 8 or 9, that is HUGE!). I don’t know why we were so fascinated with digging holes & we would often get into trouble by my dad because he hated us digging these atrocious holes in his immaculately clean backyard. We did it anyway. So once, we began to dig this hole & it was terribly hot outside. In the desert, it would easily get up to 115 degrees Fahrenheit in the summertime & we never had a pool, so we often had to improvise. So, I came up with this brilliant idea: dig the hole so that it is really, really, really deep & fill it with water & we’ll have our very own swimming pool! Jarani (my sister) was always eager at any idea I came up with, partially because I was the oldest & because we usually had the same kind of thoughts & creativity. So… we started digging in the dirt. It took us a few hours, but we finally managed to dig this hole to about 6 feet deep. It was amazing! & for a few twiggy, knobby-kneed girls, we didn’t do so bad! Then came the water. We brought the hose up to the hole & began to fill it. Instantly, the water turned this murky brown color. There were sticks & rocks & bugs in the water but we didn’t care.

Now… where my mother was in all of this I don’t know. Probably inside cooking some scrumptious dinner. My mom usually let me & my sister roam free in our backyard, without much questions asked, because we often reminded her of the adventures that she & her twin-sibling would get into when they were our age. She never minded the mud-pies & the sand castles & the dandelion weeds we would pick for her. She wouldn’t mind us coming inside after a long day of playing & climbing trees, our hair filled with dirt & our clothes stained with grass. She was such a good sport.

As the water was filling, I had Jarani (or maybe it was me, I don’t remember) go inside & ask our mother’s permission if we could please swim in our pool. She explained what we had done & my mom was fascinated & gave us the go. So, we put on our grubbiest clothes (we weren’t going to muck around in this dirty water in our bathing suits! We were brave adventurers but we were still girls, after all!) & stepped inside. The water was surprisingly warm; the earth had absorbed all the heat from the summer sun, making the water naturally comfortable to sit in. We didn’t go underneath the nasty water (our mom told us not to; even if she did, I don’t think we would have) but we just sat in our hole, basking in the glory of our ingenuity & talking about how amazing it was to be in this swimming pool. We spent about an hour in that thing… & as it grew dark, we had to leave it behind. We were filthy, by the way. We ended up throwing our clothes away because they got so muddy & stained. The next day, the water was still inside of the hole, but creepy little bugs found our swimming pool to be neat, too, & we hated the idea of sharing our space with spiders & ants & moths. So, we let the earth take the water (which took a few weeks), but kept the hole around in case we wanted to swim again.

A month later, my father bought us a wooden shed so that we could have our own playhouse. It was huge & custom built. People actually came to our house & built it from scratch. I think that maybe my dad started to realize how hard-up me & my sister were in having some fun so he let us indulge in this awesome house. He let us do whatever we wanted with it. It became our sanctuary. We made our own curtains using an old white sheet my mom gave us. We put our bean bags in there & our sleeping bags & my dad gave us a rug so that we wouldn’t be sitting on the hardwood floor. It was our little house. Even in the exhausting sun, we would lock ourself up in it, playing all day, listening to music. We grew completely attached to that shed, which is now a graveyard of boxes, memories, dolls & toys from our childhood. It’s so cluttered that we can barely enter without stepping on something. It’s a bit sad. It’s a constant reminder to me of what was lost in the middle of our growing up & becoming little ladies.

Those memories are so alive in my mind. Actually, they were once in a lifetime activities. Because Lord knows you will not find me sitting in a deep, dark hole, filled with ucky water & using it as a swimming pool. Not now, not ever again. I mean, that would just be unheard of!

But back then, it was perfect.

& now I’m back to missing my family.