the magic of childhood is in the small stuff. when i ask kids what they want to do in the summer it's always seemingly small stuff. it's only small to adults. it's everything to a kid. they want time with their parents, to go bug catching, to skip rocks on the creek, to have their mom paint their nails and piggy toes, to play catch with their dad. of course some kids dream big and want to go to the beach or the water park or disney, but they genuinely are happy having small moments with their families.
as a kid, i loved going and doing, but it was usually fairly small stuff. trips to the store, the pamplin ball field, playing in the sprinkler with chris, making air conditioner vent bubbles with sheets. lucky for me, my grannie, my maternal grandmother, was the queen of making small things magic. i went to stay with her every summer for several days to a week.
i didn't spend my time there watching tv unless it was a braves game or papa's soaps (although we did jam some mtv once and that was hilarious). we spent days doing the things i wish kids got to do more of. my great grandmother, ma'b as we called her, lived next door. under her back porch was an area papa kept the lawnmower and random other things. grannie had a flower bed there and a big five gallon bucket that caught all of the rainwater from the downspout. grannie made me a makeshift play kitchen under there with wooden crates, old tin plates, pie pans, and cups. there, i would create all kinds of creations: mud pies, cups of tea, and salads made of leaves, sticks, and random flower petals. i would take orders for these creations and my grannie would be delighted to order from me and enjoy my creations under the shade of the nearby maple tree.
mudpies were but one part of those magical summers. i spent many hours helping in the garden. i became a pro at weeding, watering (from the rain bucket), harvesting vegetables, picking and arranging flowers, and canning. it was hot, sticky work. as a kid you don't notice that so much. you just go get a drink from the water hose and keep on rolling. no sunscreen, no gatorade. how we didn't get lobstered up and dehydrated i'll never know. the end result was something i have yet to recreate as an adult: lunches of succotash, dinners of fried zucchini, squash and potatoes, big glasses of sweet tea, and usually some kind of roll or biscuit. lest i forget, there was some kind of sweet too--usually a nice blackberry roll. mama and grannie loved a blackberry roll. nothing will ever be as good as those summer bounty dinners that is for sure.
if i was lucky in the summer there was usually a surprise that i looked forward to the most--a turtle in a cardboard box. grannie always found turtles for me to inspect. i loved that. i had no idea then that moving turtles from their paths was bad for them. had i known, i would have been a little more careful. nevertheless, grannie found them, put them in a box in the back of her grey crown victoria and brought them home for me to see. i never wanted to touch them or play with them per se, but i loved to see if they would eat the leaves i would find for them. magically they always "escaped" the box pretty quickly. i have yet to figure out if it was the turtle escaping or it was simply let go, but the joy those turtles brought is something i'll never forget. i stop for turtles every single time i see them in the yard, on the trail, or at the shore. i marvel at their beauty, look at their patterns, take a bunch of pictures, and wish them well. it's one of the glimmers that i find that is just about as special as a bird sighting, and i don't say that lightly.
one of the things i really loved doing was going with grannie and papa to the farm. the womack farm was where my papa grew up and was a wonder to me. there were a few hundred acres of land, my uncle's house, the old farmhouse, the family cemetery, and the camper. it started off with this little shasta camper tucked into the woods. we would go there as a place to hang out for the day or overnight. we would explore the woods, go see my uncle joe and cousin matt, do yard work or pick up sticks at the farmhouse. of course we always looked for turtles and found many, identified trees, flowers, insects, and birds, which is still a favorite hobby of mine; and generally just enjoy time spent together.
the farm was a place where all of the womacks would gather for family reunions with mama's uncles and cousins and their kids, where my mom's aunt built a little log cabin from a kit, and where my cousin eventually made a home with his wife and family. there were so many memories made there of us eating fried chicken, mama laughing with her cousins, we young cousins riding the go cart, playing badminton (grannie's favorite), and hearing stories about new york city from cousin virginia, who lived right outside of the city. as the years have passed, our time at the farm has become less frequent and more solemn. these days we gather more at the cemetery to honor the passing of our grands and my mom. troy and i like to visit at least once or twice a year to take in the smell of the pine forest, count the dogwood trees, collect acorns, scout out flowers, and just feel some peace. when you're surrounded by family, even at such a place, it's hard to not find peace.
in talking to troy last night, i realized something about the writing the stories i've been remembering. every story, every memory, every experience, is a thread in the tapestry that is you. a piece of the puzzle, a piece of the quilt, if you will. every thread builds upon the next to become this colorful masterpiece that takes decades to complete. and it made me wonder a lot about the fact that this is my story, but what will the story look like that my son tells? i am telling parts of the legacy of my parents and grandparents. but what is my legacy? i think that will be a theme that will continue as i write more and more. nobody's legacy is free from darkness, mistakes, or pain. i have plenty of that, which is peppered into the memories that i have, but it isn't at the forefront, praise the lord. i tend to find the best parts to share for it's what i want to remember and be remembered for. the darkness never wins unless you let it, friends.
think today of the small moments. what has been the thing that you remember that is so different from what our children would remember? will our kids and grandkids remember screen time or time spent with their parents, grandparents, cousins, aunties, and friends? i hope that felix remembers time spent with their nannie, granny, and me making art, painting, creating, and laughing. i hope that my nieces and nephews remember being silly with me and exploring the chesapeake with their nannie, pops, dad, and me.
stay tuned for more of these small moments. it is next to impossible to do one post about one person. however, i can write about experiences and memories that include many people all day. my sincere hope is that it is thought provoking and gives you the inspiration to sit with your memories and experiences too.
love you friends. mean it. 💗
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