10 Years Old
I am sitting in my Grandmother's backyard. I can feel the wind race through me, but it is a hot day and the wind had been warmed by it. I am sitting in a lawn chair. Yellow, ribbed through aluminum.
The sky is blue and a few puffy white clouds race through it smooth. I am facing the sun, it's rays are not burning, but I still have to squint to read my Archie comic book. I am listening to Bon Jovi on my black and red walkman.
I look up and into the large backyard, watching the grass just starting to turn yellow, dance with the wind and the long blows she is offering us today.
I look around. The colour of the sky does not make sense with the wind. I have never been to a day like this yet.
I feel the wind and her power and I feel like she is running into and through me, leaving some of herself behind in me. I feel power that is not mine.
But I pretend the wind has chosen me. I am ten years old and want to know why.
Why has she chosen to make me so aware of her?
I look at the earth I can see. I am proud she has chosen me. Whatever her reasons.
My ten year oldself smiles.
My Grandmother interrupts my thoughts with a tap on the shoulder.
"Bethie, you sound awful," she says.
I had been singing. Raise Your Hands. My least favorite on the album.
"I know, Grandma," I reply.
She walks away, with her broom in hand and I roll my eyes.
She tells me I sound awful all the time.
Every day is a different day. Remember something from every one you can.
I am sitting in my Grandmother's backyard. I can feel the wind race through me, but it is a hot day and the wind had been warmed by it. I am sitting in a lawn chair. Yellow, ribbed through aluminum.
The sky is blue and a few puffy white clouds race through it smooth. I am facing the sun, it's rays are not burning, but I still have to squint to read my Archie comic book. I am listening to Bon Jovi on my black and red walkman.
I look up and into the large backyard, watching the grass just starting to turn yellow, dance with the wind and the long blows she is offering us today.
I look around. The colour of the sky does not make sense with the wind. I have never been to a day like this yet.
I feel the wind and her power and I feel like she is running into and through me, leaving some of herself behind in me. I feel power that is not mine.
But I pretend the wind has chosen me. I am ten years old and want to know why.
Why has she chosen to make me so aware of her?
I look at the earth I can see. I am proud she has chosen me. Whatever her reasons.
My ten year oldself smiles.
My Grandmother interrupts my thoughts with a tap on the shoulder.
"Bethie, you sound awful," she says.
I had been singing. Raise Your Hands. My least favorite on the album.
"I know, Grandma," I reply.
She walks away, with her broom in hand and I roll my eyes.
She tells me I sound awful all the time.
Every day is a different day. Remember something from every one you can.
Comments
I have a lasting memory from what would probably be the third grade. I was out on the playground at school and it was the first day that felt like Spring. The air was so crisp, yet the sunshine was bright and warm. The air smelled so sweet. The sky was an amazing deep blue with only a trace of whispy clouds. I remember looking up at the sun through the branches of a huge oak tree, it's light filtering through them just enough that I didn't have to squint. The cool breeze washed over me. I was just so excited that it was Spring.
It's funny, but that's one of my very happiest thoughts that I keep tucked in the back of my mind. Thank you for reminding me. :)
On a side note: A Wrinkle in Time still stands as one of the most influential books I ever read. I think I first read it when I was 10. Read it again recently and still love it.
Blue.
And beautiful.
Q
:)
Thank you Inanna. I am glad you came today. Hearing from you always makes me smile.
Hearing from each one of you makes me smile. In so many ways.
Thank you for sharing some very private memories with me on this one.
Go tell one other person this memory. Face to face.
Q