What is your most cherished childhood memory?
How is it that we spend all of this time planning out and preparing the magic of every season for our children, but at the end of the day, we have no true control over the memories they’ll long for once they’re grown?
When you’re burning your candle at both ends season in and season out, I invite you to stop for one moment and ask yourself, why am I doing this? Who is it for?
Some of my fondest and closest memories I have from childhood are going to the laundromat with my mom, playing board games with my dad, and watching wrestling on TV past my bedtime. And I don’t have a single photo to show for it. Of course I remember we went on family vacations and spent so much time with extended family. Only now that I have my own family do I understand the time and effort it takes to orchestrate such luxuries. Even so, it didn’t buy more real estate in my brain.
But I also remember my mom at the laundromat. The rolling basket vibrating under my hands with its faulty tire. My mom’s horror waiting for me to clip a stranger’s ankle. The squeak of the bathroom door. The ice-cold Pepsi and stale hot fries from the vending machine. Quarters for the Pac-Man game. She had no phone or iPad to kill the time passing as the machines washed our clothes. What did she spend time thinking about? Did she spend it daydreaming or worrying?
I remember my dad saying “yes” to my constant board game request. I know he didn’t say yes every time – but he said yes enough for me to remember it. Monopoly. HiHo Cherry-O. War (cards and thumb).
I remember the calm I felt when my mom agreed to sleep with me until I fell asleep when my asthma flared. Now I know all too well how precious those evenings were to her.
I remember exactly one extravagant birthday party – the putt putt golf arcade. The cake was decorated with balloons made from whipped icing. All of my subsequent cakes would be courtesy of Betty Crocker – and they were delicious.
I remember my dad letting me play darts in his garage, helping fix the window in his truck when it broke, and him catching all of my pitches in my softball years. I imagine he cringed watching me throw darts at his walls and I don’t know how he didn’t kill me when I dented his new truck with a wild pitch.
My mom laughs when I tell her about the laundromat memories because I remember them much differently than she does. Realistically, we didn’t spend that much time there. What about it makes it so memorable? Maybe it was because the time was without distraction? Outside of our home environment where 8000 other things had to also hold attention?
Stop fretting about making elaborate magic and make eye contact. Make true, undivided time. Say yes, not always, but say it. Have a closet in your house stuffed full of board games. Go outside.
Wonderful article.