Relics of My Childhood

A good part of my life is nostalgia-ridden or driven.

I am quite in touch with the present and look into the future (aided by booze at times) but the past is quite bright and vivid for me overall.

When aspects, however minute, crop up from my childhood; it makes me quite cheery and I’m happy to trip back to school days and regale (not!) the Lord and Master aka Red about my experiences. He, in turn, is equally happy to tune me out and is careful to insert, ” Uh huh”, “Ohs” and “Really?” into the gaps in the near-monologue-y conversation that ensues.

A month or so ago, MLM got a Ring Pop in a goody bag and I was thrilled because when I was slightly older than he is now, I’ve pestered my mom for quarters to buy them from the gumball machine. And here was my kid about to go down the same road of experiencing an edible jewelry! My favorite is the grape flavor in case anyone was wondering. No? Onwards…

One of my crushes gave me a Ring Pop to show me he liked me and that the first ring given to me by any guy and also the only delicious one!

Another one of the things that I somehow liked playing with, and grossing my mother out at the same time, was Slime.

It was oozy, gooey and so much fun! So when I found some tiny barrel of slime in a toy store, I didn’t think twice and bought it for MLM and another one of his friends. Needless to say, the slime was a hit! It was fought over. It made its way onto some upholstery, a certain grandfather’s shirt and grossed out every sensible adult in the room.

I was telling Red this morning that of all the things I thought would endure over three decades, pop rocks, bubble tape, bubblegum lollipops and play slime didn’t even make the top 10. But it’s nice to see these things once in a while. They’re silly, fun and an unforgettable part of being a carefree kid.

A Walk Down Memory Lane

Some of us actively live in the past. How things were, how they happened et al. And that’s understandable. There’s a comfort in looking back at things which have already occurred. You don’t need to worry about them again…they’re done. Maybe not dusted but you know how they’ve played out. It’s *not* the unknown. The present is fluid and the future uncertain so the past is often the only reliable thing you have.

The past is a powerful thing. It shapes you. It holds a repository of YOU and your life that you can go back to and pluck instances out of that help you in your present and may help you in the future.

There are times when I pass by a place where significant things in my life have occurred and if I try hard enough I can actually see myself there. Not too clearly but as a hazy memory. Too clearly and it’s ground for being certifiable :p

But sometimes a walk down memory lane helps. Especially when you’re getting your present to pull up it’s socks and get it’s act together!

Image courtesy-http://merettapater.wordpress.com/tag/memory-lane/

Image courtesy-http://merettapater.wordpress.com/tag/memory-lane/

The Uprooted Gypsy

I’ve categorized myself as a gypsy since long. Not because I have dark, good looks or lots of jet black flowing hair…no sirree! I’ve moved from one place to another as far back as I can recall.

9 schools. 1 place for graduation and yet another for the Masters. And a job or two along the way.

I wasn’t entirely a tumbleweed but hadn’t developed any roots so going from one place to the other was simple enough and often the only option.

The city I live in now is literally been the first place I call my home. Others have come close but this place is home. Ask anyone who has duct taped packing boxes more times than they care to imagine and they’ll tell you they exactly what I mean!

Been here nearly 9 years. Longest duration anywhere, ever! and this is the first place I had a place of my own as well. Red and I that is. And now we’re moving. It’s just out of the neighborhood and into a place I can see from my roof but it’s still a move.

The place where I’m staying now is the first place we lived in that was our own. It’s cozy. The smells are familiar as are the scattered toys and the scribbles on the wall by an enthusiastic toddler.

The new place is fresh, clean, higher up with a better view of the city and offers more opportunity to interact with like-minded people which has been entirely absent here. But the familiarity of a place, especially one where you’ve put down your roots finally is VERY difficult to leave behind.

There have been special meals, tantrums, birthdays, anniversaries, plans of the future, colors, music and more loads of laundry done than I care of imagine. All here.

And to leave it behind is incomprehensible. Even while I sort through things and make piles of ‘To Give Away’ and ‘To Keep’.

It’s not so much the packing and leaving that I mind. It’s the starting over. It’s often like Sisyphus and his boulder.

But despite all the gloom for leaving behind a home and the what’s clearly the end of an era for me, I’m also (in a non-overt manner) looking forward to the fresh, clean, vibrancy that will come with a new place.

And, in time, it too will become home.