Start of a Good Book and Memories to Share with Zoey

A good weekend here; I started reading the book titled The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly...and, I really, really , really like it so far. You know when you want to read a good book but can't seem to find the exact thing that your itching for? Well this is what I've been itching for now for quite some time. After reading just the first couple of pages in the first chapter I was thinking of all the quirky little superstitious things that I did as a child, (and some that carried through to my adult life), which led me to think about how awesome it is that we have access to this wonderful thing called imagination and I recalled how I played as a child...fiercely is really the only way to describe it and then thinking about Zoey's play. Then relating to the main character's mother passing in the book I began to think about what would happen if something were to happen to me while Zoey is still so young, leading me to think then about what I would want her to know about me. As a mother, as a woman, as a child and free spirit. Which gave me the idea of making a list of things to share with her...the things that I want her to know about me that others may not think to share, either because they may not know or because it may just not seem relevant. I thought that I would start my list here due to my thinking of things last night that I want to share and I want to record them while they are fresh in my memory. The idea is that throughout my blogging I 'll add things I want to share as I see fit in additional posts labeled Memories for Zoey. I am thinking that I will eventually incorporate these things into some sort of journal to give to Zoey some day, or at the very least, if something should happen to me I'll know that these thoughts are out here for someone to share with her someday. That part is up to you, my friends and family! :)

Things I Want You (Zoey) to Know About Me: (In absolutely no particular order.)

From my childhood:

I took all my clothes and boxes out of my bedroom closet and asked my parents to move my bookshelf into the closet so that it could be my room for reading. (There was no light, so I used a flashlight). Spent LOTS of time in my tiny reading closet!

Would sometimes drop toys down the furnace vent that led from my bedroom to my Dad's studio so that I could call to my Dad and have him come upstairs, (bringing toy and giving some attention to me.)

Whenever I pray and yawn afterwards, my prayer always seems to be answered or I feel that I've been listened to. (This remains to be true today.)

When I was about 7 or 8 years old I moved my bedroom to the big dark laundry/furnace room in our house, by choice. I made my bedroom walls out of blankets hung on the surrounding indoor clotheslines. I always have loved dark and dreary places...not sure why, but I always feel safe in these environments and am able to think more clearly.

When traveling in the car with my parents I would look out the window and imagine that I was dancing outside in the fields that were flying dancing was always accompanied by music. (I sometimes still do this too!)

I used to plant "clues" of fabric scraps around in my backyard and then later I would happen upon them and solve a great mystery, sometimes my parents would find my shrieking and running across the yard with some imaginary villain on my heels.

One of my favorite all time foods was (and is) corn on the cob with lots of butter and for dessert, cherry cheesecake.

I would get into trouble for reading my books at the dinner table. "Trouble" was just getting scolded and reminded that the table was for eating and sharing family time.

I dreamed of being Nancy Drew one day.

Sometimes after reading a book I would feel as though my feelings and emotions were too big for what life could possible handle...still feel this, only now in addition to books it's after looking at you and seeing how amazing, smart and beautiful you are when I realize that my emotions are hands down too big for this universe to handle.

I have a memory of visiting family friends and making homemade pumpkin ice cream with them at their home. They pureed the pumpkin and it went into a wooden lined bucket that churned the mixture into ice was the best ice cream that I've ever had.

I used to have an outdoor playroom that had a door that was accessible to my Dad's studio. This room had four enclosed cement walls, was attached to the house but had no roof, my Dad placed a beam overhead so that I could have a swing in this room. I would swing in this room and be indoors, but out.

Every time that my family moved, I left a note tucked under a floorboard or in the molding saying who I was, what I was like and where I was moving...I've done this in every place that I've lived now as an adult too. To my knowledge, only one has been discovered so far.

As a teenager I collected greeting cards, purchasing them not knowing who I would give them to but just knowing that I was attached to the sentiment that was expressed and maybe hoping that someday I would have that special person to give them to.
Brandi Sue said...

I love reading your blog!!!!
You seem so fun and free!!!!
Very inspiring!