I had a blissfully happy childhood. My memories of growing up are full of giggles and warmth and every now and then something will trigger one of these memories and I find myself daydreaming and smiling like a fool (usually in random public places) as I watch the moment replay in my mind. Recently it was the smell of fall and the way the dry golden leaves crunched when I stepped on them. That day was cool and sunny and it didn’t take long before I was eight years old again leaf kickin’ with my dad, sister and brother on a Sunday Afternoon Adventure.
I’m pretty sure Sunday Afternoon Adventures started as a way to get my siblings (mostly my sister Susan and brother Aaron, our youngest sister, Lauren, was a tad too young to tag along then) and myself out of my mom’s hair for little while. Mom stayed home with us full-time back in those days and ran a day care out of our house (bless her). Whatever the reason for their existence, they were a treat for us.
If I remember correctly it was mostly a fall thing, they weren’t as necessary in the summer and winters in South Haven, Michigan bring frigid temperatures and lots of snow and wind, weather that encourages families to bond indoors rather than venture outside. We would set out walking in whatever direction Dad chose, the three of us following him, excited and curious. He led us all over, to places we didn’t know existed in our little town. We walked on the beach, down by the docks and to neighborhoods where the streets were lined with giant old maples and other trees that were on fire with fall colors, the ground littered with the trees’ red, yellow and orange outcasts. Dad showed us how to shuffle our feet for maximum crunch and scatter factor through the piles of leaves that lined those sidewalks, leaf kickin’ we called it (my apologies to the hardworking folks who had likely just raked those leaves out of their yards).
And there was always the mid-adventure candy stop at the SuperAmerica gas station. We were each allowed to pick one treat. I usually opted for something long lasting like Jawbreakers or Jolly Ranchers and I’m pretty sure Aaron always picked something basic but classic like M&Ms, both of us always making our selection without much debate. Susan, however, was another story. Susan took the choosing process very seriously, hemming and hawing over the choice between a Butterfinger and Red Hots or Lemon Heads and a Baby Ruth. I’m pretty sure she could have used that time more efficiently; say to write a novel or cure cancer (she was a very bright child). We at least could have had an additional half-hour to forty-five minutes of exploration time added to our adventures had Susan been able to make a more hasty decision.
Eventually we got too old for the adventures; there was homework to do, sports to practice, and, well, a level of coolness to maintain (that was all me, a middle schooler does not need to be caught traipsing through leaves with her dad, kid brother and sister on a Sunday afternoon). It is such a sweet memory, though, and one of many which built the foundation that has supported turning a blissfully happily childhood into an adulthood that is daily made more pleasant, manageable and at times even a little blissful because of it and memories like it (and because of the people with whom I share these memories).
Even if you didn't have a blissfully happy childhood (although I hope you did) what memories from being a kid make you smile like a fool?
The Flower children in fall: Aaron, Lauren, Susan, Me
I’m pretty sure Sunday Afternoon Adventures started as a way to get my siblings (mostly my sister Susan and brother Aaron, our youngest sister, Lauren, was a tad too young to tag along then) and myself out of my mom’s hair for little while. Mom stayed home with us full-time back in those days and ran a day care out of our house (bless her). Whatever the reason for their existence, they were a treat for us.
If I remember correctly it was mostly a fall thing, they weren’t as necessary in the summer and winters in South Haven, Michigan bring frigid temperatures and lots of snow and wind, weather that encourages families to bond indoors rather than venture outside. We would set out walking in whatever direction Dad chose, the three of us following him, excited and curious. He led us all over, to places we didn’t know existed in our little town. We walked on the beach, down by the docks and to neighborhoods where the streets were lined with giant old maples and other trees that were on fire with fall colors, the ground littered with the trees’ red, yellow and orange outcasts. Dad showed us how to shuffle our feet for maximum crunch and scatter factor through the piles of leaves that lined those sidewalks, leaf kickin’ we called it (my apologies to the hardworking folks who had likely just raked those leaves out of their yards).
And there was always the mid-adventure candy stop at the SuperAmerica gas station. We were each allowed to pick one treat. I usually opted for something long lasting like Jawbreakers or Jolly Ranchers and I’m pretty sure Aaron always picked something basic but classic like M&Ms, both of us always making our selection without much debate. Susan, however, was another story. Susan took the choosing process very seriously, hemming and hawing over the choice between a Butterfinger and Red Hots or Lemon Heads and a Baby Ruth. I’m pretty sure she could have used that time more efficiently; say to write a novel or cure cancer (she was a very bright child). We at least could have had an additional half-hour to forty-five minutes of exploration time added to our adventures had Susan been able to make a more hasty decision.
Eventually we got too old for the adventures; there was homework to do, sports to practice, and, well, a level of coolness to maintain (that was all me, a middle schooler does not need to be caught traipsing through leaves with her dad, kid brother and sister on a Sunday afternoon). It is such a sweet memory, though, and one of many which built the foundation that has supported turning a blissfully happily childhood into an adulthood that is daily made more pleasant, manageable and at times even a little blissful because of it and memories like it (and because of the people with whom I share these memories).
Even if you didn't have a blissfully happy childhood (although I hope you did) what memories from being a kid make you smile like a fool?
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