Memoria of Youth

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
memories painted before me as if it all happened in the dream of someone else, then again I am not exactly the same as I was before nor more refined to say the least.

Submitted: May 21, 2017

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Submitted: May 21, 2017

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What I can remember feels  almost infinite in its vivid imagery, taste, sound and smell.
Hours I happily spent alone in a private Eden made for me. All the stories I adventured into. Every quest I joined battles I joined and thrones I ascended all in my mind in the pages of books I crept into my closet to read. what triumph did my imagination credit me. All these tales i wove on a hot leather seat in August as wind rang my bubblegum bows to my scalp. My favorite swing in grandma's yard beneath the shade of a great oak tree that touched branches with that of the Japanese plums. I swung so high I pulled a branch down once and felt very brave and wild. There was no shame in my heart for the love of adventure. The fruit I stripped clean of their homes in spring and the fields of flowers I rolled in only to be overcome by a horrid itch later. The milk warm baths in the afternoons by an open window while granny napped on the toilet, a towel in hand. The smell of nightfall that crept in and grandpas cigar smoke.
All the years I lay beneath home made quilts with a precious doll i named Susie in hand staring at the shadows my nightlight threw on the ceiling waiting for them to open their eyes while my own crept shut. The moments colored in my jumbo coloring books and drew my stories and poems at the small fisher price desk fulfilled paper, stickers, crayons and markers in its little red plastic drawer.
The pink mansion house i performed my tales through with my chosen and favored cast of dolls.the wardrobe I made for them, their accessories i collected through the years and stored in a pencil box all its own. The outfits predetermined the night before, the closet of silk and gauze dresses, hats and scarves kept separate from my play clothes in grandma's room. My snack bag always full resided there too. Id sneak grandpa some when i was in a good mood. the school supplies organized neatly in place. The building of higher learning i learned to love at first, i thought i was rather smart and never grew tired of hearing it and no one seemed to tire telling me so even ones who did not favor me. 
My love of reading aloud, writing on the board, picking from the treasure boxes on Friday and going on feildtrips to museums and amusment parks. I can still see the oceans and rivers i admired for the first time, how i felt so small and i was alright with it. The hotel on top of the moutains, suite rooms large enough to hold playgrounds, silk sheets, a pool that had people in it even at night, my first underwater sight of sharks and whales in a strange glass tube of wonder. 
I see the ferris wheel lights fade away while be without you plays on the radio for the 7th time, track 12, playing with the prizes I had the honor of buying because I didn't have enough to play games.
Famus homecoming parade. Every single christmas morning...almost each present and time i woke up from "sleep"
My largest birthday party, 11 years old, the cutest boy in the neighborhood sat by me and asked me to dance with him. Grandma prepared a banquet of all my favorite foods topped off with a triple layered strawberry cake. My brother almost ruined it but grandmas stopped it. 
My favorite window seat and lisa frank supplies
My rock and shell collection, plastic bow marbles, my beanie babies and plastic ring bags
Movie nights with grandpa on weekends
Oversized breakfasts with choices of biscuit or muffin and apple or grape jelly
Heavy dinners and light snack time enjoyment
When my eyes were the crown jewels of my face and considered my best asset, they had special sight beyond that which I could touch but all I could feel and dare to dream. It was with this sight i developed the voice of vision. Imagery, loud, provoking and alluring illustrated itself in all my young works developing and strengthening as time progressed. Later on it was experience that made its debut, realization set in, reality invaded my paradise in an attempt to steal what was mine. 911 wasn't an option and it had to that way for my own good. In my youth Jesus was a name the pastor used when he preached and I'd always fall asleep mid sermon after crying that my dress ribbon was too tight throwing a fit about my stockings being itchy and eating all grandmas mentos from the pouch on her side. 
Now its more than that, it is my life and way of living, meditation of rest and my only true peace of mind. Jesus is my voice of reason. I wish i had listened sooner. My rags were not dirty and my riches were not shiny, but at one point in time i had it all without trying until the day the world broke in and I was forced to battle my life for my crown back. This time, for real and for keeps.


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