Funny What We Remember

    I wouldn't know how old I would have been exactly.  But I do know my brother Charlie was in elementary school as well because he was old enough to follow directions and so was Colin (to a point).  Maybe I was 8 or 9.  I know my love of theater was already instilled in me and I also loved performing.
    Anyhow, I tell you this my readers because my earliest childhood memory consists of a fall that would have been my first performance of an original stage musical.  To set the scene, my parents had gotten together with family friends who had long since moved out of the area.  They lived on an acre of land that looked like a farm (though they owned non of the animals except two dogs and maybe the chickens.  My parents got together with this family on a yearly basis to pick sweet corn. This particular year Charlie, Colin, and I were playing with the older girl Anna.  I got the idea that we should take our play and try to remember and play it for the adults. I can't remember what exactly the plot of the play/musical was, but i seem to recall that it involved time travel.  And we had fun and the parents enjoyed it.
    Funny what we remember.

A is for: ADD (Writer's Challenge A-Z)

Click. Click. Click.
 I must get this typed out...
Click. Click. Click.  
Gah! My brain is numb!

 I'm alone in my house and at my computer. I'm TRYING to work at my blog but there are so many more things to distract me... I'm TRYING to be Good and stay focused on the task(s) at hand... Wait. Maybe THAT'S it! I'll make a list and one-by-one, get rid of the things that distract:


-I'm Tired
-It's Late
-Dogs Craving Attention
-Cats Craving Attention
-Books Calling to be Read
-Magazines Calling to be Read
-Crayons Calling

First I'll put the books, magazines, and crayons away where they belong....
That leaves:

-I'm Tired
-It's Late
-Dogs Craving Attention
-Cats Craving Attention
-Books Calling to be Read
-Magazines Calling to be Read
-Crayons Calling


Next, I'll let the dogs outside and feed the cats so they all quit their yowling...

-I'm Tired
-It's Late
-Dogs Craving Attention
-Cats Craving Attention
-Books Calling to be Read
-Magazines Calling to be Read
-Crayons Calling

There!  With all distractions taken care of, let's see if I can FINALLY get... *YAAAAAAWN!*
Damn! 
Oh well.....  Guess I'll let the dogs back inside before I FINALLY get to bed...
Night All!

B is for: Birthday (Writer's Challenge A-Z)

Here I am,  the oldest of three,  turning THIRTY in four days!  Yet I am the LAST one to accomplish ANYTHING!
Tell me, how is this possible?  Where did I go wrong??    After all, I've had a good education because I graduated from HS.  I was given the chance at a collage education like my two brothers, but TOTALLY messed that up!  I'm pretty sure that's where I went wrong.  In fact, I know it is!  I couldn't tell you why I threw away the chance at a BA though...
My brothers however, have accomplished everything they set out to do.  Charlie is now a band director in a HS in a Minneapolis, MN suburb.  Colin is the one whom set his goal to be a theater actor and got to see more of the country in a year then I ever have!

Trampoline

Kuh-theaw. Kuh-theaw. Kuh-theaw. The trampoline's rusted hinges dipped down and up like the head of a discouraged turtle. The old fabric rubbed rough the skin of my heels and pointed toes, curling to propel myself up. My hands clasped together dead center on my collar bone, cemented perfectly in place by my force of concentration and will. My body curled into itself like a dry leaf left out in winter, knees bent and feet stuck flat on the saggy trampoline surface--then, the feet pointed, the ankles straightened, the knees locked, and I shot up into the gray-marble sky, my body arced slightly like an exclamation point.

I was on the bank of the Savannah River in hurricane season. About 100 feet away from me was a once-white house, long-abandoned by its past owners, who must have also owned the trampoline I was jumping on. I faced the house and the vegetation consuming it, my back turned against the river and the kayaking party I had come with. Although I couldn't see them, I knew my parents and the other adults in the party (I was the only kid) were changing shoes, zipping snacks into bags, and looking out at the hurried waters of the Savannah with hesitation.

But I had grown bored of the preparation about 30 minutes earlier. Now, all my focus and energy were in my clasped hands and in my feet, rhythmically moving with the sag and push of the trampoline. My eyes were fixed on watching the winds bend tree branches and trailing vines back and forth, seeming as light and movable as my own hair. Their green, the house's exposed, cracking wood, and even my skin looked washed with gray, as if I were wearing tinted sunglasses.

Kuh-theaw. Kuh-theaw. The trampoline whined under my weight, but I was constantly worried that I would catch a passing gust of wind and fly away, long and effortless as ribbon. I closed my eyes and smiled to show my teeth. I forgot all about being 13--I forgot my pierced ears, my insecurity about my glasses, and my hatred of mud on my clothes. I was seven, when I didn't notice body size or acne--when every day, I was an exclamation point. I lost the knowledge I'd gained in the past six summers, and replaced it with the youth and purity and simple happiness that I remembered from being seven. And then, suddenly, a passing gust of wind carried me away--but not all of me. Only the jaded, too-cool part of me that had forgotten what water on bare feet felt like, and how it didn't really matter if I had mud on my clothes.

I let my body go limp on the trampoline, falling to my hands and knees. Mom's voice called me, and I closed my eyes again. I inhaled, and the air seemed to rush up my nose like wind itself, purifying my lungs and chilling my brain. Shivering, I opened my eyes and saw with a new clarity. I got off the trampoline and ran down to the kayaks, to put on my shoes and get more mud on my clothes.