ONLINE
BOOK

By the time I was seven, I was making frequent visits to my enchanted domain-the creek covered in oak trees behind our home. My heart fills with peaceful childhood memories every time I think about the fresh smell of oak leaves, the sound of creek water running over the smooth moss rocks, and the gentle breeze that caressed my face as I sailed over the rippling water on a knotted rope swing.

I usually took one of my brothers with me. We would swing for hours. Tiring of that, we made the small climb up the dirt hill onto the narrow matted path between the creek bank and the neighbor's back yard. I sometimes carried a six-pack of empty Coke bottles, anxious to get to the store and retrieve my ten-cent refund to buy more icy Coke. On our return home (I was always barefoot) the pavement in the parking lot was often so hot, we made a game of running on the white parking lines until we reached the cool shade of an old giant oak tree.

An entrepreneur at eight

By the time I was eight, I entered the world of commerce helping my older brother Brent with his paper route. I earned five cents an hour. After making his newspaper collections, we would both run to the creek and play for a while, then to the store for a bag brimming with Jaw Teasers, Chico Sticks and Bit-O-Honey. Sometimes instead of the candy, we'd opt for a 29-cent colorful kite.

A store-or a refuge?

I have warm memories of the local grocery store-everyone there was so kind and made me feel welcome. Sunday mornings after attending the local Catholic church, our family trekked straight to the country store for sweet rolls, fresh juice and cold cantaloupe. (We were always hungry because as Catholics we were to fast before receiving communion.) On one such visit when I was about eight years old, I was watching my father and younger sister of five frolicking through the store when the room started spinning and then going dark. The storeowner rushed over and offered me a bright red apple. "Eat this," he stammered. I took a few bites and felt better almost instantly. This kindness and strange cure only added to the magic of the country store.

The clerks were so nice to our family-and to everyone in the community. They treated people with kindness and never hesitated to help neighbors, friends and even strangers. The country store was my home away from home.

The orchard

The apricot orchard growing across the street from our home added to the magic and beauty of my childhood memories. The orchard owners, our neighbors and friends, harvested the apricots each summer. For several weeks, they picked, sliced and soaked the fruit. Then they put the apricots out to dry in the sun on old wooden pallet racks resting on train rails. We loved to hang around and get a few apricot halves to munch on.

Friends and neighbors

We had wonderful neighbors. One was a creative boy named Randy, who lived at the end of the block. He offered us unique toys that he built from things around the neighborhood. One of these enchanting toys was a bicycle built for ten. Randy gathered all the bikes he could find in the neighborhood and welded them two by two, making the creation as long as possible. The prototype seated ten, but I believe it was reduced to six for speed. What great fun that was. What imagination Randy had!

Then there was the Carter family. They lived behind us, facing the next street, and had a daughter a year younger than I. No one except me liked her because she picked her nose and ate it. (Such memories I have!) We visited each other every day. Instead of running all the way around the block to get to each other's house, we decided to break out a panel in the back fence to make our own unauthorized "gate." No one noticed our handiwork because we kept a nail in the top and just turned the wood panel back and forth to pass through.

I have been blessed with wonderful friends. Natalie was my best friend from age five. An only child, she invited me to sleep over at her house almost every night. We shared dreams of singing, dancing and becoming famous. We wanted to buy a mansion with the riches we earned from our singing careers. It was to be a huge home with an east and west wing. Our mansion would have a pool, game room and a giant restaurant style kitchen because we both loved to cook. All of our family and friends would be invited to live with us forever.

We had such a wonderful time with all of our friends on the block and our schoolmates. I remember Charla, Leanna, Leslie, Lynn and Simone.

Good childhood memories are so important. They are imbedded deeply in our minds and are expressed in many ways as we become adults. Because of the memories I shared with Natalie, I still have a desire in my heart to sing and write poems and lyrics. My favorite style was the short and sweet Haiku poem-only 21 syllables. In 1972 I wrote, "Let the eagle fall below the fallen light, so He can see the glory of the flight."

My parents

My parents were not affectionate. I have few memories of my mother during these early years. My dad very rarely gave me a hug or said, "I love you." The only real affection my dad showed was when he would tell me to come over to him and then he would hold my head and rub his rough whiskers on my cheek until it burned red.

On the few occasions my dad did pay attention to me, I felt more secure for the moment. I remember a time when I was very young that my hands were chapped and dry. Dad rubbed them down with Vaseline and then put my white cotton church gloves on me. By morning my chapped hands were healed.

When I was sick with a cold, my dad would rub me down with Vicks VapoRub and I felt safe and warm. Then he would snuggle me up in my covers and tuck me in tight. I slept very soundly those nights.

But so many other times I did not experience this kind of caring attention. Once my brother Brent and I were playing basketball and started to climb on the basketball backboard. My brother jumped off, so I followed suit and the metal angle bar drove into me, splitting my side open. My mom and dad just wrapped some torn sheet strips around my waist very tightly. No tenderness. No love expressed. The wound left a huge scar on my right side-and one on my heart.

I sometimes wonder how my life would have been different if my mom or dad had been more affectionate.

When I went to the Carter's house, they would greet me with a hug and a kiss. At first, I just cringed because I was not used to being kissed or hugged. It was my neighbors who taught me to hug and say "I love you," to say "hello" and "goodbye." It was my neighbors who taught me how to love, laugh, cook and clean. In later years, I came to appreciate these kind people as a true blessing from God.

REFLECTIONS (Chapter 1)

Go to Chapter 2
Go back to the top of this page

Feel free to email me with any questions / comments at changinglives74@yahoo.com.au
by addressing your email to Kaylee.



© Copyright 17 May 2005
Taken from the web site www.changinglivesonline.org
This story is copyright and can not be reproduced without the author's permission.

home | stories | why read the bible | music & poems | how to know Jesus | send your story | links | disclaimer

Email us at changinglives74@yahoo.com.au as we would love to hear from you!