Summer mornings in my Neighbourhood- A Nostalgic Explosion of Memories (Part one)
5:00 AM.
That is the time you need to wake up to see the sun rise.
At eight years old, this doesn't sound like something a nine year old would do.
But trust me, it was.
The alarm clock I purchased at target for $14.99 precisely with my own money, including one 10 dollar bill, four one dollar bills, three quarters, two dimes and four pennies not including tax releases the ear splitting beep out of its speaker to send my brain into an active function at 4:50 AM.
I slowly turn out of bed to quickly shut off the alarm so it will not awaken the rest of my family in a organized chaotic fashion.
I pull on a hoodie, the soft grey one that screams, "CAMP W(censored for privacy purposes)N," across the chest which I purchased with my mothers money at the place it mentioned 7 1/2 days before.
My bare feet touch on the stairs as I semi-quickly rush into the kitchen, attempting to not wake anybody up. I grab a banana in my hand and ever-so-quietly pull the backyard door open before it makes the "sqeerreeerrree" sound which will surely alarm someone.
With my banana in my hand, my yellow feet step through the cool grass of the backyard before the sun greets them with a warm hello.
Putting the banana in my mouth, I reach my hands up to the top bar of the ladder and I swing my feet across the wooden planks that lie tethered to the other planks. I hoist myself up into that swing set I loved so much.
I pull my knees into an Indian-style seating position on the deck of the treehouse where I graze my eyes around the yard in search of my neighbor. It does not look like she is coming.
I open my banana and slowly begin to bite the yellow crescent as it slides down the back of my throat. I cannot describe the smell or feel of the crisp morning air.
My eyes watch the clouds begin to catch fire with the dawn beginning to warm our location. This would bore most eight year olds, but for me, because I did not own an iPad as they were making their first debut I was amazed.
First they turned to a rose. Then an apricot. Then a slightly-browned banana.
I cannot describe how this felt to me. To welcome the mid-July sun as the devils cast to dust.
As soon as the welcoming is over, which I will not go to much into detail about as that is a memory I will be keeping to myself, I grab a book and sit on the guest room bed and begin to read as the words popped out of the page and danced along the paper as my brain devoured the words.
This wasn't any ordinary book, like Harry Potter or Pippi Longstocking which I had finished years before, this was the "Little House on the Prairie" series by Laura Ingalls Wilder which I had adored much more than the others. In the months to come I would devour Moby Dick and Call of the Wild, but to me, none of these books would compare to "Farmer Boy" or "Little House in the Big Woods"or "On the Banks of Plum Creek". Reading made me delighted like nothing else.
Around seven, when mom began to awaken, I would rush back into bed to pretend to still be sleeping so she could wake me up. When I was woken up, my sister would often jump out of bed as well to step downstairs with me to go eat an egg sandwich then play on the tire swing out back. My Dad had already left for work at six that morning.
The tire swing is where we had the most fun. The smell of rubber as we would crawl into it and sit on
top of it was a strangely refreshing feeling which I would never understand. Our old dog, Chase, would barrel out to us and not give a care in the world wether we pulled his ears or sat on his back. Then Gina would come outside on her way to church around the corner. She always offered to take us, but we declined as we wanted to run upstairs and wake up 11 year old Allie and 13 year old Olivia. Julia would go back home right then because she was afraid of their cat.
(Part one)
That is the time you need to wake up to see the sun rise.
At eight years old, this doesn't sound like something a nine year old would do.
But trust me, it was.
The alarm clock I purchased at target for $14.99 precisely with my own money, including one 10 dollar bill, four one dollar bills, three quarters, two dimes and four pennies not including tax releases the ear splitting beep out of its speaker to send my brain into an active function at 4:50 AM.
I slowly turn out of bed to quickly shut off the alarm so it will not awaken the rest of my family in a organized chaotic fashion.
I pull on a hoodie, the soft grey one that screams, "CAMP W(censored for privacy purposes)N," across the chest which I purchased with my mothers money at the place it mentioned 7 1/2 days before.
My bare feet touch on the stairs as I semi-quickly rush into the kitchen, attempting to not wake anybody up. I grab a banana in my hand and ever-so-quietly pull the backyard door open before it makes the "sqeerreeerrree" sound which will surely alarm someone.
With my banana in my hand, my yellow feet step through the cool grass of the backyard before the sun greets them with a warm hello.
Putting the banana in my mouth, I reach my hands up to the top bar of the ladder and I swing my feet across the wooden planks that lie tethered to the other planks. I hoist myself up into that swing set I loved so much.
I pull my knees into an Indian-style seating position on the deck of the treehouse where I graze my eyes around the yard in search of my neighbor. It does not look like she is coming.
I open my banana and slowly begin to bite the yellow crescent as it slides down the back of my throat. I cannot describe the smell or feel of the crisp morning air.
My eyes watch the clouds begin to catch fire with the dawn beginning to warm our location. This would bore most eight year olds, but for me, because I did not own an iPad as they were making their first debut I was amazed.
First they turned to a rose. Then an apricot. Then a slightly-browned banana.
I cannot describe how this felt to me. To welcome the mid-July sun as the devils cast to dust.
As soon as the welcoming is over, which I will not go to much into detail about as that is a memory I will be keeping to myself, I grab a book and sit on the guest room bed and begin to read as the words popped out of the page and danced along the paper as my brain devoured the words.
This wasn't any ordinary book, like Harry Potter or Pippi Longstocking which I had finished years before, this was the "Little House on the Prairie" series by Laura Ingalls Wilder which I had adored much more than the others. In the months to come I would devour Moby Dick and Call of the Wild, but to me, none of these books would compare to "Farmer Boy" or "Little House in the Big Woods"or "On the Banks of Plum Creek". Reading made me delighted like nothing else.
Around seven, when mom began to awaken, I would rush back into bed to pretend to still be sleeping so she could wake me up. When I was woken up, my sister would often jump out of bed as well to step downstairs with me to go eat an egg sandwich then play on the tire swing out back. My Dad had already left for work at six that morning.
The tire swing is where we had the most fun. The smell of rubber as we would crawl into it and sit on
top of it was a strangely refreshing feeling which I would never understand. Our old dog, Chase, would barrel out to us and not give a care in the world wether we pulled his ears or sat on his back. Then Gina would come outside on her way to church around the corner. She always offered to take us, but we declined as we wanted to run upstairs and wake up 11 year old Allie and 13 year old Olivia. Julia would go back home right then because she was afraid of their cat.
(Part one)
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