The other day while walking my furkids, I had this memory from my childhood. As my blog is called “A Writer’s Discrepant Memoir” due to my horrible memory, I thought I would share it before I lost it again.
There’s a house on our street that looks like it belongs in a Grimm’s fairytale. Among all the greenery and flowers, it has bushes that started flowering honeysuckles. I looked at them and was transported back to the days of my childhood, when I used to pluck honeysuckles from a neighbor’s house, hoping to never get caught, and would drop the tiny nectar from their stamens* onto my tongue. As I looked at them now, I still didn’t know if they were poisonous or not, but as a child I did not care. I looked it up, they’re not. But I remember looking forward to their blooming every year, trying not to pluck too many in a given day as to not leave enough for the rest of the season, or for the other neighborhood kids that had introduced me to the nectar in the first place.
It was an odd memory. Even when I still lived in Vegas or when I go back for visits, I never go down that old street, but the more I thought of it, the more memories came. I used to play Madison the mermaid from the movie Splash in a neighbor’s pool. I had very, very long hair. Remember Crystal Gayle? Google her. I wasn’t too far from that. I had my bike stolen there. I got bitten by a St. Bernard, who I remember stalked me until I had nowhere else to go and he bit my butt. He was enormous, and must have outweighed me by 150 lbs. easy. I used to build forts in the desert just around the corner from our neighborhood. I remember one of our neighbors was friends with my parents, who at a party put his hand in the blender when it got stuck, and yep, it became unstuck with his hand still in it. I’ve had a paranoia of blenders and garbage disposals ever since. Anytime I see that in a tv show or movie, I cringe and get a little sick inside. I got chicken pox in that house. I used to play school by myself in our den. I threw up brussel sprouts that I had eaten at a friend’s house, even after I begged not to eat them, because I did not like the smell. I still can barely eat them. I used the word “bastard” for the first time in reference to my one year old brother. He was not, and I don’t think I even knew what the word meant, but it was years later before I dared to speak that word aloud again. I broke a glow stick on the carpet in my bedroom. I remember my parent’s bathroom toilet had leaked and mushrooms grew in the carpet. So weird, right?!
It’s funny the things that stir memories. A little flower took me down memory lane. Well, how’s that for a throwback?
Happy Thursday everyone!
A Writer's Discrepant Memoirs and Other Tales 