Yesterday I blew up one of those giant pool toys. Lips,
lungs and an hour or so of what felt like barrels of hot air, the toy didn’t
quite inflate. Though the ball remained soft and saggy, I had become completely
depleted and dizzy. The giant beach ball with stripes had wrestled, resisted,
swooshed and pulled from within. There lolling around in the middle of our
living room were minuscule pieces of my soul trapped for the time being, held
captive and wanting to leak out. While whirling around and regaining my breath,
a strange nostalgia engulfed me, making me reminisce, more importantly
making me grateful.
 |
| There's an intangible me inside. |
Blowing up the ball reminded
me of my dad who had blown up our play pool and many other toys when we were
toddlers. Unless you’ve done this before you don’t appreciate the pain and
agony that goes into blowing up one of these larger toys. Of course, they have
pumps nowadays but there was this magic moment-- that spanned the years—evoking dad,
making this experience worth the shortened breath and lightheaded daze. I remembered my father’s
unconditional desire to see his kids play, laugh and enjoy summer. Something we
as kids, took for granted. Nice and taut everything worked perfectly and if we
made a hole, then he’d patch the toy or ball without complaining. This flashback reminded me of his heart and his soul, perhaps best described as an intangible moment,
consisting of puffs of heavenly love.
What about you?
Have any recent events jogged early childhood memories?
At present, the only thing that does it for me would be in dreams, where the fragments I remember, for instance, would be being back in the home where I grew up.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a nice dream.
DeleteI remember those days before anyone could actually afford pumps. :)
ReplyDeleteI'm not even going to think about what it'd take to blow up some of the water toys I've seen in social media lately! No thank you! lol
Right, like those blow-up islands from Costco?
DeleteI remember pumping one of my bike tires too much and it exploded...
ReplyDeleteI'm thankful to have all the memories I have of my parents.
ReplyDeleteI try forgetting some of them and then pow, something like this reminds me of the good things.
DeleteWhat a sweet, thoughtful and lovely post.
ReplyDeletecheers, parsnip
Thank you Parsnip!:)
DeleteYour post was the thing that jogged my memories. My dad could fix/mend/build anything! Or at least, I thought he could. I had a real case of hero worship when I was growing up – who needed Superman when they could have my dad.
ReplyDeleteIt's amazing how growing up makes us think we know things better than our dads! LOL Maybe not you and I certainly don't know anything better, but as a young adult I remember a sort of swagger and confidence that probably came from him anyway.
DeleteWhat a GORGEOUS piece of writing. You have spoken for many a summer memory here, including my own. Those were the day when our parents wanted to just see us laugh, explore and create from nothing. Yes, everything takes our breath away, even life itself. And thank you so much for coming to visit my post.
ReplyDeleteYOU are an excellent writer! Anita
Great post. Loved it.
ReplyDeleteWe did a family vacay down to Arkansas and did some diamond mining. It reminded me of when I was a kid and I wasn't afraid to play in the dirt and mud. It was so much fun!
ReplyDeletebeautiful post and wonderful memories.
ReplyDeleteVery nice post. Your Grandmas must have been lots of fun. Good cooks always seem to lift your spirits, I think. Enjoy the weekend. I shared your site.
ReplyDelete