Hey everyone! I know it's been a while since I have posted anything; which is because of varies reasons. But I'm back into bloom and there should be some coming over the course of the next week!
Anyway, throughout the month, I was trying to think of some different memories that I would want to share with you all. To be honest, I thought of tons and tons of happy times that I've had, and I wrote myself a mental note each time I thought of one. Bad mistake Hannah! Yes...I have (not completely though) forgotten almost all of the ones that I thought about. That could be a good thing, though, because I think I should really share the memories that are very vivid and special to me on here. But anyways, here are some that I do remember, and these are very special to me and I hope you enjoy.
Memory 11: I don't think I will ever remember the time I read my first mystery book. I think I was nine or ten. I can't remember what the book was called, but, reading it once, I remember very distinctly what happened in the book. This guy went with his friends to live in a cabin out in the middle of no where for a long winter. Well, there had been stories of this creepy man who was wondering around the nearby town who was trying to alarm his surroundings. Now, there was a car who kept appearing in front of this boy's house which just stopped, then left. I remember, while reading the scary parts, I would jump and scream and run out of the room. There were parts in the book about the fireplace moving, or a reserved knocking sound behind a wall, or a bland sound of someone crying in the air of the cabin. Guys, I was so scared reading this book. But, thankfully, I did finish it. At the end of the book, the creepy man broke into the boy's cabin, but he got shot. Don't ask me why I was reading a book like this at age 10...it said from ages 8-12, but I guess some people would figure better judgement. But anyway, I told my dad that he had to read that book, because I knew that he liked suspensive books like that. But it was a child's a book, so, of course, he didn't read it. Oh well, what a great memory!
Memory 12: So, while growing up, I had a very special friend that I met around age four. Her name was Gracie, and she lived directly behind my house (and still does!) We were the same age, and we played together every day. So one day, out of boredom of playing with barbies, baby dolls, American Girl Dolls, and "house," we conjectured that we were going to do something that would tribute to our friendship. I ran inside my house and grabbed a cardboard shoe box and we put some of our little friendship things in there. I can't remember what the things were that we put in there, but I do remember us writing each other a letter and putting it in there. Then, of course, we buried the box in my backyard. I don't know if it's still there (well, it probably should be!) But at some point, I really hope we can open it together and look at everything we put in there.
Memory 13: As I was starting to get older, (and even now), I would always watch the familiar show, Little House On the Prairie. As some of you know, it's essentially about a young family that lives in a small town...kind of out in the country... and in several different episodes, they and others experience situations involving different wild animals and robbers, etc. For some reason, I was always scared that a lion or bear or something was going to appear at my own house. We have these woods in our neighborhood that my dad would always ride through with his dirt bike, and me, sometimes on the back of it. I hated, hated, hated when we would go through any woods of any sort, because I knew that there were cyotees and wolves that always traveled and lived throughout our neighborhood. I couldn't stand the thought of one chasing after me and trying to eat me. I can still remember some authentic, intense dreams as a child involving these things about me being chased and eaten. Even to this day, I can't simply walk through the woods by myself, for fear of something (or somebody!) coming after me! (Shhhhhhhhhh ;))
Memory 14: I graciously grew up in the kitchen cooking. Simply put. I loved nothing more than creating my own masterpiece. I think I have been cooking ever since I was a few years old: starting when I could just stir a few ingredients together, and now cooking big, unique, fancy dishes that you would see in some alienated restaurant in Southern Asia. I would always liberally flip through my mother's recipe books, looking for something new and yummy that hadn't been made in our home yet. But I couldn't help but ask myself "Where do all of these recipes come from? Do other people create them?" In turn of my realization, I was impelled to actualize my own magnum opus. Recognizing my mother wouldn't very easily commend my doing, I waited until she was asleep before doing it. So when I got my chance, I got a capacious bowl in my hand and flippantly went throughout the cabinets, accumulating any kind of flour, sugar, baking powder, fruits, salts, flaxseeds, milk, eggs, and about anything else you could think of! In the end, I had a monstrous mess of, well, blarg. (Not to mention a very, very large mess!) My mother came downstairs and saw the catastrophe: which included dried flour in sundry places throughout the kitchen, broken egg shells, and various water-ish ingredients spilled on the newly-mopped floor. As some can probably suppose, I was grounded and constrained by my mother to clean everything up. Still, it's such a fun, absurd memory, and I laugh every time I think about it!
Memory 15: Ahh! The final memory! Okay, the one I'm about to share...I hope I haven't already shared it or mentioned it in some Throughout the Years Blog, but here goes anyways. Well, on my dad's side of the family, there was supposed to be this hug family reunion/anniversary for some 24th or something cousins and aunts and uncles. But the problem was, it was in Virginia. My family never, I mean never went traveling. The only couple of times we did was to Florida and King's Island and couple of times. But it was established that we must go to this event. Note this was also the week before my 12th birthday. My mom concluded that she was not about to go on this long miserable car ride with three kids plus a baby. So my dad took my sister, Sydney, and I in our gold minivan. Knowing it would be a long drive, my dad borrowed his friend's car DVD player. I got some DVD's which included Bible Man, Little House On the Prarire, and Charolette's Web. Well, we put in Bible Man, jumped in the car, and drove off to McCdonalds to get some early morning breakfast before our long trip on the road. I situated my own little "table" in front of me, (aka a tall cooler) and put my egg sandwich and orange juice on it. We ate a rode for about forty-five minutes until...BLAH!!!!! Yes...Sydney threw up all over the floor, which, in turn, I, seeing this action, did the same thing. My dad, who was on the phone, threw this device down and grabbed a trashcan and threw it back there. The ironic thing is that the trashcan was right in front Sydney, but apparently she didn't feel like grabbing it. So yes, we threw up all over the place (what a disgusting color to throw up! :/), but we did feel a lot better after throwing up. But we went to Walmart to get some Febreeze and a vaccume cleaner. In the end, we felt better, and things smelled and looked a ton better and cleaner. We turned the DVD player off and turned on a dumb audio book. But the rest of the ride there and back was a happy and clean one. I hope that didn't disgust any of you! ;)
Well, that's fifteen memories for fifteen years of life. Frankly, I don't feel a year older...I still feel quite like a child. According to some, that is probably considered a good thing, but I can't wait to be older for various reasons :) Love you all,
Hannah
No comments:
Post a Comment