March 4, 2008
Waits For No One
The other day I was talking about something from my early childhood – I don’t remember what it was – and I absentmindedly added, “Yeah, that was probably 20 years ago.” Twenty years.
It feels weird to be able to vividly remember something that happened 20 years ago. I was at my cousins’, watching in terrified awe as they jumped from the third step of their staircase to the carpet miles below. I was sitting on the back of Mom’s bike, soaring through the Duck Creek Greenbelt in the early morning with the lingering taste of Raisin Bran still on my lips. I was filling a lapse between Super Mario Bros. and Gyromite by watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I was living on Sycamore in Garland, falling asleep in my firetruck bunk bed to Dad gently singing House at Pooh Corner.
Twenty years ago.
I don’t feel like I have twenty years’ worth of memories to pull from. But, I can’t think of another span of time that sounds more appropriate. It just feels strange to have my conscious existence summed up so concisely. To me, it wasn’t twenty years ago, it was at the beginning. The beginning of me. The beginning of everything.
That period in my life doesn’t move, but it keeps getting further away. I will always have been four years old in March 1988, but not so long ago that was 15 years ago. Not so long ago, it was 10 years. Not so long ago, it was last week.
I can still taste the Raisin Bran.
I remember smashing up a tuna sandwich and throwing it at the wall from my high chair. I remember teaching my cat how to fly. I remember running through the halls of CPC with you, our massive heads causing us to be at a full run at all times (they cause a weird lean).
I also remember a car wash at LCC and our conversations of Starfox 6. I remember bike rides, building climbs and sewer adventures. I remember playing Corsari in Starbucks. I remember laughing my crack off during any given day during a conversation we have in passing.
The days remain sweet.
I still throw my tuna.
Yes, the firetruck Bed. Granddaddy made that, you know.
I remember one night during a thunderstorm, your Dad and I were jolted out of our sleep by what sounded like the crash of a Boeing 747. We dashed into your room and noticed that where there used to be a large window, there was a gaping hole -with fierce wind and cold rain blowing in diagonally – the entire length of the room. There in the middle of the floor was the window, frame and all, blown clean out of the wall….as you slept peacefully, three feet away, in your Firetruck Bed.
Thank you, Josiah. I can’t trump that comment.
Ain’t no way I can beat smashing tuna.
In March 1988 I was 10 months old. HOW DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL?
This is a beautiful post Caleb. It has put me in a reflective mood… In a good way :)Thanks for sharing.
Cheers