Growing pains: The Story of Childhood Kingdoms

Growing up I spent a lot of my time outside. When I think back on my childhood I think of my cousin, the outdoors and exploring. For a few weeks now I've been thinking back on a short memory I have from a warm summer night in Pennsylvania. My family was dealing with some things and despite the fear of the unknown and uncertainty, this one memory is a highlight of a time when things where seemingly dark. I had to spend the night upstairs, that's where my aunt and uncle lived along with our cousins. We lived downstairs and our grandparents lived on the third floor. That night I had to take all my stuff and spend a few nights in my cousin's bed. At the time his bed was placed parallel to the window. I remember laying there in the dark, a gentle breeze blowing in and I could hear the crickets outside chirping. We had neighbors that lived on the other side of the fence, they would stay up late at nights around a small bonfire talking and laughing. I felt so calm and at peace. With the silence of the night around me. Only the sound of the crickets, the rustle of the trees as it swayed with the breeze, and for some reason the comforting laughter that could be heard in the distance. It's a memory that I have been reliving for some time now. It seems so distant but with each time it's as if it becomes even clearer. I can't say I had a perfect childhood. Closer to my teenage years it seemed to have taken a sharp turn for the worse, but some days when I think back on this memory it makes me realize that despite how bad things got there was still a sliver of hope, a small moment of peace. Its just sad that it has taken me this long to realize it.

I think that as I get older I hold on tighter to the memories of my childhood. Memories that up until a few years ago I was desperate to forget. It becomes easy to forget when you no longer have that reminder when you are away from your childhood home, and family. I used to always wonder why my family would remind me and talk about something that has happened when it only happened a few years or months ago. Now I realize we tell these stories, more for ourselves than anything else. We tell them so that they don't slip through the cracks of time. I feel like there are so many stories and so many memories that I have let go. Sadness pushes us forward without letting us look back and reflect. With me, my sadness and grief for my childhood didn't let me look back into the past and my only thought was "I have to move forward" I held an idea in my head that if things are bad now and I hold on just enough until they get better, all the sadness and its memories will fade away. Now, I think back on the bittersweet memories and grieve for the broken teenager that I was.

It wasn't all bad, not until after 13. Before that everything was great. In fact, I look back on that time of my life and smile, vowing to never allow it to slip away. My entire backyard was a kingdom, my front yard foreign and undiscovered land. I would spend winters outside all day with my cousin, building snow forts, and riding our sleds down the stairs. From three o'clock until sundown, time didn't exist in my land. We would talk about everything and nothing, he was the gatekeeper to all of my secrets. We used to have a time machine in the background, it was mostly a metal storage box in the shed. We explored and imagined, created and dreamed. Our creativity had no limit. It was a time of my life where I spent hours lost inside the fortress of my own mind, dreaming.

I have another memory. I think of it as the end of my childhood. Every winter, almost daily, I would go outside and play in the snow with my cousin. It was the thing we did. Some days even when he couldn't come out and play I would. As I waited for him to escape the captivity of his bedroom I would imagine the story we would explore on that day. Imagine and wait. One day, I think I was maybe 12 or 13, I was standing in the kitchen by the glass door. I was looking outside, at the snow, and my cousin who was playing with my little sister. He was sitting inside his long green sled and was inviting me to go outside with them. I said no. I saw the confusion in his eyes and the sadness. He didn't understand what was wrong. Afterall, this was our thing, this is what we always did. I turned around and went back to my room. I don't know why I said no. I don't know what had happened. I felt different though. I was becoming aware of the reality around me. I was becoming aware of the way adults acted and spoke. The expectations. I was growing self-conscious about what others thought of me. I realized that I was too old to spend all my time playing outside. That was the end of my childhood. I looked at my sister and baby cousin playing in the snow and realized, that kingdom was no longer my own. It had opened its doors up and now it was a place for a new generation of dreamers. Things were different. They wouldn't understand. I didn't even understand.

It's been years since that happened. I still feel bad, In part, I grieve for the child I was. For the child I lost. Mostly, I grieve for distancing myself from my cousin. He was my first best friend, my partner in crime ( I was usually the one always getting us in trouble), my fellow adventurer and conqueror of the world. Its been a few years since I last saw him. We are both living our own lives. Growing up I guess. To be honest I miss him. I miss my whole family back in PA. I miss my Grandma's garden with all the fruit and vegetables and tulips. I miss my Grandpa, the way he was always working on one thing or another. I even miss those long carpeted stairs going to the second floor, down which I fell on my first day in the house. I miss the memories, but most of all I miss the childhood I tried so hard to forget. Growing up is hard, letting go and moving forward isn't easy. In the end, all we have left are the memories we made, the feeling we felt and the stories living within us.