When I was a child we spent summers in Hampton Bays at my grandparents’ cottage. It faced a spring-fed creek that flowed out to Shinnecock Bay.
The earliest experience, of which I have no recollection, was when my mother and I spent the hurricane of 1938 in a closet in the cottage.
“My earliest memory is of spending time outside, beyond the back yard of the cottage in a wooded half acre where small oak trees grew. Sitting on the ground, I enjoyed the quiet solitude, the ambient sounds, the sight and sounds of birds, squirrels, the occasional chip-monk or rabbit.”
I also spent time walking around looking for the rare Indian Pipe plant growing through the leaf litter. On the best of days, I would find a box turtle which I sometimes took with me, returning it to where I had found it after taking care of it for a few days.
“I feel that the peace and tranquility, the sense of wonder that these experiences brought to me, have helped guide me through my later life, all of which came to me through grace.”
Peter H.
I invite you to send me your story of a moment of happiness as a child. I reserve the right to use your “moment” in a future blog in complete confidence unless you choose to add your name or initials.
Great memories. But if only for one moment you took me with you into the woods you cherish so deeply
Thank you for asking, Kathleen!
Here’s a moment of happiness I had as a girl: On a warm spring day my close friend, Mia, and I stomped in a huge mud puddle at the bottom of “The Big Hill” where we’d go sledding in the winter. Our boots got stuck in the deep mud. Stepping out of our boots, we realized we had white socks on and continued to squeal while those socks became completely brown and goopy. Feeling someone staring at us, we looked up. A short distance away we saw a girl standing with her arms on her hips from our 5th grade class. She shouted at us. “You two are a couple of PIGS!” With this permission, we began to oink, snort, and belly laugh with great delight, utterly free in our bath of mud. -Laura S.
I smile as I remember this delightful moment. Neither of us thought about the consequences of our playful, silly frolicking.
I’m smiling as well. Nothing like shared laughs with a good friend, often a long time friend.
I love this. I have been writing for many years and I still find stories about my childhood to write about. I love stories like this . Strong Ink my friend. Sharing.
Thank you, Larry.
Like many little girls in the 1950s, Kathleen, I was horse crazy. My parents sent me to summer camps, which always had horses. The best one was the third and last one, when I was 12, I think. It was a summer camp all about horses! We cared for them, we rode them, we loved them.
Being 12 is tough enough, as you stand on the cusp of losing the childhood you had but aren’t certain about the teenage years to come. For me, that summer was my last chance to still be a little girl, knowing that I would be entering junior high school, which was a huge step forward from grade school.
Thanks for pulling those memories out!
Beautiful Susan. I suspect your relationship with the horses contributed to your expression of your innate abilities to communicate with people as well – to care.
I like to do a body scan and notice where in my physical body theses memories are held. We’re these moments of feeling full bodied in the girl you were and still are?
Thank you for your memory. It warms my heart.