Archive for the ‘nostalgia’ Tag
November 29 2011
Growing up, we played a lot of board games. This was back before the days of iPads and internet, when the only computers I knew of were Commodore 64′s and regular old Nintendos were the must have video game console. And so we spent the majority of our time sitting around a table playing board games, as we had no other choice.
There were many that I loved: Monopoly and Life were great if we had nothing to do the rest of the day. Hungry, Hungry Hippo for noise. Yahtzee and Battleship for a quick round of fun. Then, Memory and Connect 4 because I was really good at them, and it’s always better when I knew I would most likely win.
Even though we do have a choice now, we’re beginning to appreciate the classic board games again. All weekend, Jedi and I were immersed in a battle of Monopoly. Abby has a Toy Story 3 Memory game that she loves to play, although she’s a rather sore loser. And Buzz has taken to Connect 4.
Well, his own superhero version of Connect 4.
For those who don’t know, Connect 4 comes with 2 different color chips, the goal of which is to connect 4 of your color. There are yellow and red. But it’s now not just yellow and red. To Buzz, it’s Spiderman and The Incredible Hulk. To stack one on top of the other equals a SpiderHulk. Though it has to be in a certain row. And judging by his prominent vocal annoyance, every chip I dropped in was done wrong. I’ve never lost so many games of Connect 4 in my life.
I miss the days when I was good at Connect 4, back when I knew what I was doing. I just don’t seem to understand these new rules.
October 10 2011
Abby has taken up quite a significant rock collection. Scouring for the perfect smoothed pebble has become her favorite past time whenever we venture outside. Her hands are happiest when they can take an unlimited amount of time sifting through dirt and debris, her small grasp never quite big enough to hold them all.
Not only does she have many stones gathered in different sections across our drive, we’ve brought the best of the bunch inside. My mom was over the other day and noticed the overflowing bowl we store them in, along with a few dusty stragglers scattered on the floor. “Did you wash all those rocks when you brought them in?”, she asked.
“No”, I replied. “Why would I wash off rocks when I’m just going to throw them back outside when she gets tired of them?”
“Well, I used to wash your rocks when you brought them in”, she remarked, haughtily.
“No, you didn’t”, I disputed.
My mother was adamant in her insistence, though. “Yes, I did.”
This wasn’t our first trip down alternate paths of memory lane. I would like to say it stopped here. But like a pebble in water, it had a ripple effect. We went back and forth a bit more before the subject was changed, neither of us willing to budge on our recollection of events. It’s just every day rocks, after all. The preferred kind you can skip onto any pond. I wonder, however, how even the smallest grain of reflection against the resulting folds of reminiscence can skew in such contrast for a mother and daughter who have spent most of their life living alongside. And how, exactly, does that bode for how my children will remember me.
October 05 2011
It catches me off guard. A simple item like a pink make-up brush, sitting innocently in the middle of my kitchen table. Like a time tunnel.
“You still have this?”, I asked my mom, amused at the memories that came flooding back.
“It’s been in my purse. Abby got it out.”
Before I knew it, I was an unsure 17 again. Experimenting with the latest eyeshadow tips out of magazines and applying mascara until it was close enough, though never quite the same as instructed. Wash, repeat, sometimes until my cheeks were red. A sentence of occupying our single bathroom for hours on end, staring at my reflection from multiple angles.
Wishing I was someone else. Who fit in. Who was beautiful and better.
I could see myself, hunched over the bathroom sink, cases of powder and colors around me. It was as if I traveled back 15 years before I was reminded of the now.
“That’s mine!”, my little Abby declared, grabbing the brush out of my hand. And I was back again. “Grandma gave it to me.”
Then as I sat, my daughter, thankfully still far away from uncertainty and self-doubt, positioned herself in front of me and began to sweep the soft bristles over my cheeks. The scent of memories in old make-up held within and familiar, yet forever ago. That girl I once was, who didn’t know then. If I could tell her, I’d say you don’t need magazines or pore-clogging foundation. There is already a strong base to stand on. One day you will be enough. You will fit in and your beauty will shine to those who truly matter.
July 13 2011
Jedi, November 10 2003, after 29.5 hours of labor.
Buzz, April 26 2006, after 6 hours of labor.
Abby, July 24 2008, after 2 hours of labor.
Even though I sometimes miss them being this small, squinty-eyed and screaming, and can’t believe it wasn’t yesterday, I’m more fond of the little people they’re growing into.
Then, there’s this:
Buzz at 1 month, giving 2 year old Jedi a piece of his mind. Some things never change.
Linked up with Rockin’ the Baby and Wordful/Wordless Wednesday.
June 27 2011
That saying isn’t true. I am here to tell you that you can forget how to ride a bike. I remember being a preteen, laughing at my mom as she wobbled unsteadily on my 10-speed in our rock-covered driveway, unsure how to balance herself anymore. Not even minutes earlier, she was wondering aloud, “How hard can it be? I used to ride a bike everywhere when I was a kid”.
Apparently pretty hard.
She gave it a good try and I appreciated the effort, and the laugh, but she never made it with both feet on the pedals. Defeated and embarrassed, she passed the handlebars back to me as I gathered myself assuredly on top of the gold-sparkled blue banana boat seat and took off. A kid sure to never forget how it feels to have my feet carry my body through the wind.
I think I remember how to ride a bike. But your mind, it plays tricks on you. There’s no way of knowing until you try.
Life is unexpected and I’ve been thrown off this past year. Everything that I had known previously isn’t what I thought. I’m unsure and unbalanced. It’s so easy to lose myself in everything I’ve lost, but I still have what’s important. And even though I’m trying my best to push through, I might need a bit of help, even if I’m a little defeated at first. I’m ready to feel the wind again.
Maybe this will be the year I get back up and ride. It should be. And if I don’t know how to steady myself anymore, I’ll learn again. It’s time to get both feet on the pedals. I think today is a good day to start.
