Warm Fuzzies

Do you have a favorite Season? My favorites are summer and autumn. Winter is too cold and Spring isn't much better aside from those couple of glorious teaser weeks in April and May. Summer, with it's heat and sunshine and days to be spent complaining about the heat and going to the beach chasing children with sunscreen makes me happy. Maybe it's the vitamin D. Maybe it's the blue skies. Maybe it's the heat and driving with the windows down.

Autumn is lovely, too. And not because of pumpkin spice. Enough already. If I liked pumpkin pie more than I do I might enjoy the other things sprinkled with the pumpkin and the spice. The best way to eat pumpkin pie, in my not so humble opinion, is with copious amounts of whipped cream. Copious. Like, 2/3 whipped cream to 1/3 pie. Better still is to just skip the pie altogether. 

Not all of my happiest memories are from Fall but it's in this season that I seem to reflect the most. Maybe other people reflect around New Years. By time the New Year arrives I'm cleaning up Christmas and trying to get rid of clutter.

So, I'm going to write down some of my happy memories. I hope they give you warm fuzzies, too or allow you to reflect on your own happy times.

I'm sitting on mom's lap in the house on Travis Street. Mom's back is to the window in the living room and my back is to mom's front. In each hand I hold one of Mommy's fingers and I'm moving them around as if they are joy sticks. I feel warm and content and fascinated with Mom's fingers.

My Daddy is driving his truck; it's just me and him. We are on the road that goes by the Dairy Queen (which I now know to be the Cape Arago Highway). Daddy is singing part of Clementine to me. I think it's "Oh, my darling." He tries to scoot me closer to him so he can put his arm over my shoulders. I am so happy and safe but super embarrassed that Daddy is singing to me so I admonish him with an, "Oh, Daddy!" 

It is near Christmas time. I must be three, just a month shy of my fourth birthday because the following Christmas Daddy is gone. Christmas cartoons are on T.V. at the same time as the evening news. Daddy turns the T.V. to the news. Ike and I complain because we want to watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer or Charlie Brown. Mom is nearby in the kitchen and hears us so she turns to Daddy and says, "Doug. Let the kids watch cartoons." Dad switches to the cartoon. He is probably annoyed but I am happy to get to watch cartoons and learn that mom wields some serious power.

We live in Vancouver now. It's Saturday and my step-dad drove to Seattle to watch the Huskies play. Mom takes me and my brothers to Landover Athletic Club to go swimming for a while. Mom brings a book and listens to the echoes of, "Mom! Watch me!" for a couple of hours before we dry off and walk the half a block back home. We bake cookies and laugh and tease each other. We congregate at the kitchen table or sit on the bar. It's warm in the house and it glows. I am at peace with my mom and my brothers.

More than the glowing warmth of the kitchen I remember how the backyard seemed to morph into an otherworldly place in the Fall. Looking outside there was a long hedge of tall arborvitae that separated our house from our neighbors. There were two or three tall evergreens that towered over the house. There was nothing special about our backyard, no landscaping that made it beautiful to me. It was the way the light bounced from the green grass to the green arborvitae. It looked like a lush sanctuary. 

I think it was the last day of school in the eighth grade and Wendy had a sleepover. Wendy, Kim, Torrie and I thought it would be fun to go back to the Jr. High and play a real life version of Calvin Ball (from Calvin and Hobbes). It was raining but I think that is what made it fun. We ran and chased each other all over the football field throwing a ball and making up rules as we went along. We were wet and muddy from head to toe. I think that was the last time I played like that with my girlfriends. 

It just occurred to me that maybe the reason why playing in the rain and mud with my friends in the 8th grade is such a treasured memory is because it was the last time I played like that. 

Kim, Wendy, if you are reading this I think we need to schedule a play session on a grassy, muddy field. Kim, bring Michelle. We'll make new memories.