I've been having some really strange dreams lately. The kind that stay with you most of the day. Most all of the dreams have to do with the house I grew up in. I don't have any idea why I am dreaming about 1528 Coal SW, telephone number Chapel 31551 but I am.
Maybe it's cuz I am older than dirt, maybe because I am watching the grands grow up and realize that childhood is such a fleeting thing, maybe because there is a message but I don't know.
We moved into that house when I was 3. Tiny little bugger of a place but bigger than the house we had just moved from. My earliest memory of childhood is how the faucets worked in the bathroom. The handles were those X shaped things and they worked backwards to the way all others work. You know the phrase righty tighty, lefty loosey...well backwards to that. I can remember getting in trouble for letting the water run, run and run.
The phone was in a little alcove in the wall at the end of the hall. Big, black, 50's bakelite plastic thing with a cloth covered cord. I would watch it while it rang thinking that it was going to jiggle the receiver like on the Tom and Jerry cartoons. I always felt sorry for Tom. My grands laughed at me when I told them that. I also cried when Tweetie would get the best of Sylvester. My sister, 13 years older than me was so embarrassed one time when she took me to the picture show (yep that's what folks from Tenn. call it), that she took me out of the theater during the cartoon because I had had a good cry over the poor puddy tat.
I've told you before how my Brother would pay me to annoy my Sister. She was easily frustrated and I musta been really good at it too. Poor puddy tat.
I have such vivid memories of my childhood, whereas Sweet Man has little or no memory of being a kid. I wonder why that is? Shelley also has limited memory of being little. How about you? Vivid, plain or none existant?
Here are the things I remember most vividly......The huge weeping willow in the backyard (place to get the switch to get whipped with), the apple tree in the corner where I would sit and talk to the little girl (with one green eye and one blue eye and half her hair blond and half her hair brown) that lived behind us (she and I ran away one time together), the crawl space under the house where I kept all my really secret treasures. The jig jog alcove in my closet where I was sure no one would ever find my diary. The front hall closet which, when my Mom and Dad would go out smelled like the fur coat my Mom had, I know cuz that's where I hid from my sister. The sweet william flowers on the back patio that attracted the Monarch butterflies I would watch, catch and make a wish on. The bbq grill my Daddy Jack built on one of his only visits to NM. One side was for storing wood, the other side was a dog house for my cocker spaniel named Lady (one of four Lady's we had). My tuxedo kitty named Boots who loved to sit and watch our parakeet Skipper. And my Mom's pink and turquoise kitchen with a dishwasher that had a window in the top of it so you could sit on the counter and watch the water spray inside.
Terrible thing is...someday that's probably where dementiaI will have me full time, back in the past and I'm already there some days. If it weren't funny I'd be scared. At this point it just frustrates me that I can't sketch it....my childhood. I would love to be able to show someone else what is inside my head.....maybe not, that too is scary.