Day 9 -- Today, my husband and I were talking about our sledding adventures when we were kids. I don't know how the subject even came up. I think it was when Connor started sharing about a health class at school. He said that they learned how kids don't like to play outside anymore. That got me talking about the hill where we used to go sledding when I was a kid. It was awesome! My parents still live at the house where I grew up so my husband is very familiar with the terrain. He turned to look at me and said, "What?! What hill did you have at your house?"
I was surprised at his outburst. I mean, wasn't it obvious? Before I answered him, I flashed back to my childhood, to the memories of how we used to go flying down the hill next to the house, carefully packing down the snow so we could go farther and farther each time. The dream ride was when it was icy snow with a really hard crust where, if you were lucky enough to miss all of the trees, you could fly down the hill pass through the flatter section and catch the second hill. If you were still flying down with enough speed, you could make it all the way into the brook. That's right. Sliding into the icy, cold water of the brook behind my mom and dad's house was an amazing badge of honor. "Oh my GOD!!" the fortunate sledder would scream, "I went right into the brook!" And the rest of us would cheer him or her on with a mixture of envy and horror." (Our parents were always furious when we showed up drenched from landing in the brook.) I think I only achieved that status maybe two or three times in my lifetime of sledding adventures. And we were out there all winter, every year. There were no video games luring us into the house, no 'can't-miss' television shows. The good shows didn't start till after 4pm or so. Conveniently, that's around when it started to get dark anyway. It was a good time to head back inside after playing in the snow most of the day.
When I described this scene to Brian, he nodded and smiled. "It's weird," he said, "I am always amazed when I drive by my childhood home. The yard seems so small but when we were kids, it was HUGE."
It makes me kind of sad to think how our surroundings shrink as we age. You definitely lose that sense of awe, that feeling of excitement and respect when conquering a scary hill, or goal. I don't like to think of myself as blasé or jaded. I'm not. But there is no denying the fact that the hill which seemed so big to me as a kid, is rather small and not so intense today. But on the other hand, the relish which we all attacked the hill (which in proportion to our diminutive size was still rather huge) was an amazing display of courage.
I wonder sometimes, when I talk myself out of trying new things or am fearful about maintaining goals (like this daily blog) where that exciting and fearless kid disappeared to. Don't get me wrong, there were a lot of things I was afraid of as a kid. For example, starting a new year always put me in a state of momentary fear of the unknown future. But inevitably, one of the neighborhood kids would bang on the door and in a flash, I was outside again, careening down the slopes with my awesome red rider sled, jumping out of trees into piles of snow or carving out amazing forts in the snow banks.
Playing in the outdoors and living in a world of adventure was the best. And I was one of those kids who was really, really good at it. I miss that kid; I really do.
No comments:
Post a Comment