I have moments when a part of me aches for the pure, innocent days of my childhood. Days when the best thing that happened was walking to the corner store with twenty cents to buy a bag of mixed lollies.
My childhood wasn’t anything spectacular, I guess it was a fairly average Australian ‘country’ childhood. We moved a few times, lived on a farm, in town, out of town, in a country pub, in town again. There was variety, that’s for sure.
As an only child my childhood enabled me to use my imagination and foster my creativity. Music was my constant companion. I had good friends, best friends. I lost friends and regained them again as girls do. I liked boys, had many crushes and my heart was broken more than a few times. School was a place for learning and socialising, not necessarily in that order. Sure there were family incidents. Bad times, times when I thought my world would come crashing down. I guess every family has it’s secrets. But for the most part, I look back on my childhood with a fondness. And each memory caresses my thoughts with a gentleness that I wish could be bottled.
Living in the country town where I grew up I often find myself driving past the houses that I once called home.Turning down the streets where you would find me rollerskating or playing tennis on the road with my bestie. Walking along the river where the cool (or not so cool) teenagers hung out or wandering the school grounds where I can still see my teenage self strolling to class, laughing without a care in the world.
Today was such a day.
I found myself driving in the area I used to live in when I was a young teen. I lived across the road from my best friend. And wasn’t that just the greatest thing ever? Absolutely. The memories I have of that time are filled with such affection that sometimes I find myself thick with emotion. My heart swells and a lump forms in my throat. I think of the house. My bedroom, the walls plastered with my teen idols, cassettes and Dolly magazines strewn across the floor. I can see myself writing in my diary each night. Scrawling the happy times full of fun and the not so good times with tears smudging the pages. Writing about the boy who I wished would notice me or about how bitchy teenage girls can be. Or how annoyingly, stupid parents are. Teen stuff.
As I drove by I wanted time to freeze so I could remember the moments. I wanted time and space to relive the emotions, time to reach out and be that young, innocent girl once more. Time to touch a life that seems so close yet is so far away. I drove slowly letting the thoughts wash through me before being snapped back to reality. Traffic will do that to you.
I’m not sure if it’s normal or even if it’s healthy. I’m sure any psychologist would say ‘concentrate on the presence, not the past or the future.’ I’m not sure what it means. I just know the older I get, the more I do it.
Tell me about your childhood?
Do you ever find yourself pining for days gone by?
Linking up with Essential Jess at IBOT.