The five things I miss most about childhood, as required by a tag from Casey.
Running through our huge yard in Kentucky in only my purple bathing suit bottoms, hopping over the lawn sprinkler stationed smack in the center of the yard. The feel of the icy cold water against the humid air. The soggy grass between my six-year-old toes. My bowl haircut plastered to my head. Laughing unabashedly and without reason; giggling. Seeing my mom on our back porch, watching and laughing along.
The smell of Wal Mart in the few weeks before school. Carrying the list my teacher sent, dutifully crossing off #2 pencils and wide ruled notebook paper. Trapper Keepers. Trying on outfits that would carry me through the first months of school. The nerves the night before the first day, wondering if I'd get to sit next to my friends. A new backpack, full of the supplies I'd picked out myself.
The lemonade stand my neighbor and I half-heartedly ran every summer. Sitting at the end of my black-topped driveway on our sleepy street, waiting for someone - anyone - to drive or walk by in hopes that they'd like a drink from our pitcher of Countrytime Lemonade. Drinking most of it ourselves; the vast majority of our earnings due to our parents purchasing glass after glass. The huge sign we made in gigantic bubble letters to advertise our twenty-five cent price.
Our house. My mom in her flowered flannel nightgown tucking me into bed. The smell of my dad's bootpolish and Old Spice first thing in the morning before he went to work. The smell of baby powder in my brother's yellow room. The light purple walls in my bedroom. My heart-covered bedspread. My little brother carrying his stuffed animal, Kitty, through the house. The horrible pear-and-bird wallpaper in our kitchen that was left by the previous owners of the home. (Funny that I know my mom re-wallpapered because we all hated what was there, but I don't remember what she covered it with.) The couch in the living room that, with the simple propping up of the cushions and the aid of a blanket, became a fort in which I could read in complete privacy. I read a whole Babysitter's Club series on that couch one summer.
Being completely content. Never feeling like I should be doing more. Never feeling like I should be pleasing people. Never feeling that I should be smarter, prettier or more successful, being perfectly happy in my skin, belly and all. Feeling perfect just the way I was.
And, now I have to tag three people...Because them's the rules.