There Once was a Girl...Part 1, Scene1...
Have you ever watched a movie that really stuck in your mind? One that so touched you emotionally that it was difficult to shake it's plot and message. Eventually, it starts to fade. Not completely, but it doesn't overtake your thoughts anymore nor do the details remain intact for remembering. Childhood is like that. Twenty some odd years have created enough distance that the little curly headed, strong willed drama queen seems like a completely different person than the one typing these thoughts.
The rustic, warm, river side home and the peaceful play places that surrounded it seem as foreign as Narnia. Did it really happen? Was I really there? I wish the memories could be magnified and sharpened with a strong lens into the past. I wish I could share with you the treasure of it's existence. Only three little girls were prized with it's glory. A few special people were able to receive supporting roles in it's play. People with whom I made endless amounts of "frogs", pretended to be grown up working women clad in heels, lipstick and purses with gum in them...only grown ups carried gum, and much hiding and seeking in the quiet, dark bliss. Long days of make believe, swimming, laughter and a few squabbles over who sleeps "in the middle" graced our little lives. Being home most of the time because Mom didn't have a driver's license for a long while nor the desire to run around town, was a true blessing. I wish every kid could have the worry free mind I was able enjoy for so long.
Various clips replay in my mind repeatedly and too many have been removed from the final cut. Trips to Fredericton (and Timbuktu, for that matter), MANY car shows, LONG walks in the woods...walking, when driving in the outback got too thick for wheels. Apprehension revisits me as I recall my Dad wondering if our little 4 wheeled Bronco can make it through that large puddle in the road..more like a budding lake, but who cares...there are things to explore on the other side. Water quickly rises past the tire tops and my little eyes, wide with excitement, watch adventure in the making. Dad whoops with victory on the other side as Mom smirks with a "You're crazy, but I really like it" kind of look.
Our fearless leader takes us (sometimes carries us) to many a deep wooded paradise. Mom, spotlighting beautiful flowers and feeding us with her finest corn meal rolls, prudently packed. Dad, listening for wildlife and reciting scriptures or "If" by Kipling...he really isn't a poet, but that one, he keeps close to his heart...and mine now..."If you can dream and not make dreams your master..." sorry...it's flooding back to me now. No maps, no detailed plan, just stimulating exploration...soggy socked exploration...the best kind. Winter didn't even stop us. Five pairs of cross country skis carried us into our family playground. Then home to the open fireplace for hot drinks, Gospelaires music and likely a hearty crockpot meal from Mom...the true Pioneer Woman.
Time for a commercial break. My movie is far from done. Choosing the next scene is a tough task, but inevitably destined. It's important to make these movies. Lest we forget. Lest we stop appreciating. Lest we refrain from giving the same kinds of experiences to our own children. I need a title for my little screenplay. It just seems to call for one. "Little House on the Prairie" is already taken...
The rustic, warm, river side home and the peaceful play places that surrounded it seem as foreign as Narnia. Did it really happen? Was I really there? I wish the memories could be magnified and sharpened with a strong lens into the past. I wish I could share with you the treasure of it's existence. Only three little girls were prized with it's glory. A few special people were able to receive supporting roles in it's play. People with whom I made endless amounts of "frogs", pretended to be grown up working women clad in heels, lipstick and purses with gum in them...only grown ups carried gum, and much hiding and seeking in the quiet, dark bliss. Long days of make believe, swimming, laughter and a few squabbles over who sleeps "in the middle" graced our little lives. Being home most of the time because Mom didn't have a driver's license for a long while nor the desire to run around town, was a true blessing. I wish every kid could have the worry free mind I was able enjoy for so long.
Various clips replay in my mind repeatedly and too many have been removed from the final cut. Trips to Fredericton (and Timbuktu, for that matter), MANY car shows, LONG walks in the woods...walking, when driving in the outback got too thick for wheels. Apprehension revisits me as I recall my Dad wondering if our little 4 wheeled Bronco can make it through that large puddle in the road..more like a budding lake, but who cares...there are things to explore on the other side. Water quickly rises past the tire tops and my little eyes, wide with excitement, watch adventure in the making. Dad whoops with victory on the other side as Mom smirks with a "You're crazy, but I really like it" kind of look.
Our fearless leader takes us (sometimes carries us) to many a deep wooded paradise. Mom, spotlighting beautiful flowers and feeding us with her finest corn meal rolls, prudently packed. Dad, listening for wildlife and reciting scriptures or "If" by Kipling...he really isn't a poet, but that one, he keeps close to his heart...and mine now..."If you can dream and not make dreams your master..." sorry...it's flooding back to me now. No maps, no detailed plan, just stimulating exploration...soggy socked exploration...the best kind. Winter didn't even stop us. Five pairs of cross country skis carried us into our family playground. Then home to the open fireplace for hot drinks, Gospelaires music and likely a hearty crockpot meal from Mom...the true Pioneer Woman.
Time for a commercial break. My movie is far from done. Choosing the next scene is a tough task, but inevitably destined. It's important to make these movies. Lest we forget. Lest we stop appreciating. Lest we refrain from giving the same kinds of experiences to our own children. I need a title for my little screenplay. It just seems to call for one. "Little House on the Prairie" is already taken...
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