When Did This Happen?

 

When did this happen? When did things change?

 

Wasn't it just yesterday that we were making tepees in the backyard? Grinning with glee as we peered out at each other through the gaps between the boards; the lumber old and rotting, and yet to us they were beautiful.

 

When did this happen? When did we get older?

 

Has it truly been that long since we climbed the Mulberry tree? Our feet stained crimson after trampling the ripe fruit. Climbing ever higher in hopes of reaching the top. I never got very far but instead watched as you passed from branch to branch with skill.

 

When did this happen? When did we stop playing?

 

When I was the princess and you the warriors? Sitting quietly on the bed while all of you battled for ultimate victory. Light-sabers, swords, guns and superpowers. Play fights turned to real fights that no one ever won. I watched by the sidelines, never understanding why these pretend duals were so important.

 

When did this happen? When did we forget?

 

That every shiny stone should be saved?

That pennies are priceless.

That playgrounds are Castles.

That a water hoes is a Rainbow maker.

That cuts, scrapes, and bruises are meant to be treasured battle scars.

That a box filled with old clothes meant a play has yet to be born.

That love has no agenda, that forgiveness is given unbegrudedly.

And that every day should be lived to the fullest and that no one is ever left out.

 

Don't you remember? Have you forgotten?

 

Yes, I know you have. At least for now you have. Your world is so exciting now but in a different kind of way. I know things have changed and most of the time I'm glad. But still some times I miss it: those precious few days of my youth. I see now that you are all on your way to adulthood which means I too will soon follow.

 

Is it OK to be scared? Is it OK to feel stuck?

 

Reaching out to my future while still grasping tightly to my past. Afraid to let go, afraid to forget. But at least I have you to go before, to make a way, to clear the path. To tell me its OK, to cheer me on, to hold my hand. Because things will  change and already have, and I'm ready to face what life has to give me, if you'll promise to help me out.

 

But tell me, when did this happen? When did we grow up?

Author's Note

Just thoughts I had about my childhood I shared mostly with my three older brothers.
I miss it sometimes...

Reviews

[Through the Gateway]

This was a very heartfelt piece, Vesa. I wonder the same thing myself sometimes. Remembering all the summers at Lake Whitney with my cousins. The seeming miles of cedar turning into the forests of Middle Earth, and the lake itself an vast ocean of endless adventures.

When did the decision to go swimming *ever* have to do with the temperature of the water, whether or not we were gonna get sunburnt, or even if we had the clothes to swim in?

A beautiful piece, Vesa. Very beautiful.

[JC]

i'm laying here half asleep, my memories now juxtaposed with yours because they are so familiar and akin to each other, the most important thing about reading for me has always been relation mixed with enlightenment i could never find on my own...you made me think so much of my own sister and what her real thoughts must have been... this is what humanity is all about, being so open and learning from each other, you are very special and have a gift, that is for sure...funny how i was thinking before how great it would be for you to write more about your childhood and now i find this amazing piece by you...

[Dark Aeris]

A strong beautiful piece, I can empathize with you the thoughts. I grew up with the boys in my family and well I miss such memories as well. Things do change, some more quickly than others.

[Norma M Sutton]

Very nice. I have two younger brothers. I miss some of those things too.

[cest la vie]

Vesa,
In reading this I too thought about m 3 brothers (no sisters). Time is fleeting and before we know it 10, 20 years have gone past. You wrote this so wonderfully.

In reading this, I'm sure you ignited the same questions in them.
You are a great writer!!

[Silvario]

wow! this is such a great write. penned with such a professional look and a genuine feel of urning, of wondering, of almost a bit of sadness - perhaps for those of us whos youth is long past. i love a piece that evokes unexpected emotion and this does that with ease. it had me smiling, it had me thinking back to years long gone, it had me feeling for the author. it takes talent as a writer to accomplish this reaction from readers.

well done indeed. i loved it :)

[Shutterbug]

Wow..this piece actually hit home with me and somethings that are going on in my life right now. Thank you for putting them on paper (or computer) for everyone to be able to remember.

[Marie Anzalone]

Yes, indeed, when did it happen? And why does growing up mean we have to forget the magic in little things? I still have my rock collections, don't you? :-)

It's funny- I actually wrote a similar piece as a letter to the girl who was my former best friend, called "Horseback". The same thing happened to us- we grew up, and grew apart, and she became a wife and mother and had no time for "childish games" any more. And is very bitter. Reading this poem took me back to my own childhood with her, with cousins- playing outside, making forts and obstacle courses. Good medicine things.

I really liked the way you captured the sense with your words in this piece. While your writing has matured since this, this piece lets us see that sense of wonder and does not crush it or make it saccharine. It is just beautiful. Thanks for sharing!

[cloister]

That actually is quite nice. It's rough around the edges, but at its core, it is lovely. There are many places, however, where the writing sort of sticks out its gangly elbows to jab the reader the wrong way. For instance, in the first paragraph:

> Wasn't it just yesterday that we were making tepees in the backyard? The lumber old and rotting and yet to us they were beautiful,grinning with glee as we peered out at each other through the gaps between the boards.

The second sentence is sort of a mish-mash. It starts out sounding like one of those typical noun-phrase sentence fragments that writers often use to provide a brief description of something introduced in the previous sentence. But then we get a full-featured independent clause ("and yet to us they were beautiful"), jammed awkwardly in there. Following that, the "grinning with glee" bit sort of dangles off the end, its hook drifting along, hoping to snag onto its missing subject.

Basically, you've got a bunch of separate ideas and images in here, all vying for space, such that none of them really have the breathing room they need to be fully developed. Work to put each one into its own fully developed sentence, giving each idea and image the respect it deserves. As it is, the sentence reads like your brain was dumping ideas and words out at you faster than your fingers could keep up. Another thing you'll notice is that when you do separate each idea or image into its own package, you suddenly have more room both to _expand_ them into even better creations as well as to strengthen your underlying theme. So maybe a rewrite like this:

> Wasn't it just yesterday that we were making tepees in the backyard from pilfered lumber, old and half-rotted, that nobody but us wanted anyway? Remember those beautiful tepees that held and birthed so much summer imagination? Wasn't it just yesterday we peered at each other between the boards, grinning through the gaps, giggling, mutually ignoring that we were already too old for peek-a-boo?

Just a suggestion, anyway. There are a bunch of small rough spots where a few minutes work can smooth out the writing so it stops drawing the reader's attention to itself. You don't want the reader's attention to be on the _writing_, but on the _story_ you're telling. One way to help yourself find these spots is actually to read the piece out loud. I know, it feels silly and embarassing to do that, but nobody else has to be listening. Lock yourself in the bathroom, do it when nobody's home, whatever: the simple act of running your text through the parts of your brain that have to turn it into speech does wonders for helping you find the trouble-spots.

I have to say, I didn't come out of your first paragraph particularly impressed, but I'm glad I kept reading. There is so much genuine heart to this piece that I really felt that bittersweet ache for childhood past and the joy of innocent play with siblings. Despite the rough spots and "gangly elbows," you did do a great job of capturing that emotion. And sharing it.

[~*~Peace Keeper~*~]

Wow i really love this one...its so true...so many of us ask these questions
Great job :)