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Memories of a Lost Child

Happy memories are so few for some of us.

By Neecee BPublished 4 years ago 5 min read
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A great memory from my childhood is a trip with my grandparents. We went through the national parks that particular summer, I saw a deer very up close. I Remember my grandfather talking shit about a parent allowing their child to get too close. It was a different side of my grandfather I hadn't previously seen. The memory that has been a staple for me of the good wholesome rare moments from my childhood. While driving all around California we drove by what was in my opinion a theme park created by nature. The information board described it as a place where it seemed the native Americans had gathered around. I don't remember what they may have used it for but I do remember what it was being used for at the time. You see it was a beautiful stream we could see groom the road that was spotted with children all along the banks. It was all beautiful red Rock with water rushing down being channeled by natural grooves rubbed smooth by years of water rushing along the solid Rock. It also appeared to a child's eye to be a magical place made by nature for children. The natural grooves made perfect chutes for people to slide down with natural twists and turns. The water was only about half a foot deep which was perfect for my 8 year old self to be pushed along the slides and have the water cushion me along any turns. Which ended with the water spreading out to barely cover the rocks at the end of the slide which caused the pressure of the water pushing you along to dissipate. I could standup and run back to the top and do it all over again. It was amazing and my little social self made friends with all the families along the stream. I just felt like this summer vacation find was so beautiful and exciting. I loved the smell of the pine trees and the perfect weather. It was warm enough that the chilly water was refreshing and just added to the sensations of the whole experience. The mountains have continued to be a way for me to remember the many summer vacations my grandparents would take me along for. It was the break from my reality that I needed for my child brain to relax and forget the reality of my nightmare childhood. While I would run through forest trails or sit in Sunny grassy meadows it was like these locations where completely different worlds. Nothing from my daily life existed. I didn't have baby brothers to take care of in these places. At 8 the constant responsibility of two infants my parents had was overwhelming and problematic. I worried about them all the time. I felt like they where my children and when I was home they really where on so many levels. My mother was a submissive alcoholic who had very little in the way of the skills needed to care for anyone but herself. More days then not she was passed out after a sloppy day of drinking. To be honest when she was asleep or unconscious things where easier for me then when she was awake. When she was awake there where numerous dangers she posed to my brothers. She chained smoked and while drunk was known to drop cigarettes or have the lit end accidently touch the tender skin of my brothers arms. It always seemed to be their arms as they would grab for anything. Of course their where times when she would drop them or pull their little arms so hard I feared they would break as she would twist and pull to get the arms through the little baby shirts. I would stand by and constantly critique my mother's attempts at nurturing. I was like a nervous hen watching a coyote sniff her baby chicks. Usually the nights would end with me telling my mother to go to bed if she hadn't drunk herself into what I thought was a nightly coma. It was strange that at 8 when my mother had two children I realized she was not normal and that it wasn't a natural or accepted situation to be telling my mother what to do. I felt like I was the adult in the situation and that my mother was my cross to bear.

The summer breaks every year where to he rare times I was allowed to be a child. My grandparents would only take me on these trips never longer then two weeks at a time. In reflection I know my grandparents knew I took on a parental role in my household and I think they didn't trust her anymore then I did to care for the babies on her own for longer then two weeks. The rest of the summer would be spent with the three of us kids with my grandparents. Due to their medical needs as elderly grandparents I would still be entrusted with the boys care. The difference though was my grandparents home was clean and calm and had wonderfully clean things like towels. I remember my grandparents towels. They thick and soft and smelled good. Such a stark difference from the rags we had that when held up where see thru. When with my grandparents it was a joy to care for my brothers. On that beautifully sparkling day as I rode down those rock slides all of that was forgotten. All I thought about that day was about running to the top of that ride again. And not until I had rubbed all the material of the shorts my grandmother had bought just that summer away. I literally had rubbed two butt cheek size holes in the seat of my shorts. I didn't care though it was a perfect day.

family travel
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Neecee B

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