Adventures as a Youngster

Today I had lunch with my cousins and grandma. It was nice. My eldest cousin (she beats me by 9 months) is now a mommy of 3 beautiful babies. When we were children she was my world. Whatever she said or did might as well have been carved in as an addition to the Twelve Commandments. I would literally argue with my Dad, a doctor of medicine, over the various "facts" I had learned from her. 

I remember a hot summer day when we were about eight and nine; our pesky tag-along little brother was about six. We spent the morning picking up plastic, sun bleached flowers that had been blown off of their designated graves at the cemetery below my house. Once our arms were full we tarried around the cemetery looking for those resting places that were barren. When our good deed was done we headed back home. 

I can recall other escapades from my youth guided by our fearless leader. We'd wake up with the sun, pack our backpacks with various "necessities" (fruit roll-ups, nutri-grain bars, whatever random artifacts we had to decorate our newest fort with) and we would head out. We always had a destination. We named every single one of our secret spots. On hot summer days, when the Arizona sun was relentless, we'd often go to "Sandy Beach". On our way to whatever our decided destination was, we would keep an eye out for any sort of "archaeological" find. Broken pieces of glass from littered beer bottles were always exciting finds. Rocks that looked to be extra-special were picked up. Old lumber near barbed wire was clear evidence of an old mining town. Rust railroad spikes were never left behind. 

After a full day of exploration, we would head home with out bags loaded down. As the sun started to set we knew my time to play was coming to an end. Soon, my parents would be there to pick me up which was always sad, but also a time of great enterprise for us! We would haul the old Radio Flyer wagon up the road and set up at the entrance of the gate, and unavoidable location. All of our valuables collected from the day (and perhaps some left over from previous adventures) would be set in the bed of the wagon with a sign signifying that it was all FOR SALE. We would discuss and set our prices and how the funds would be divided. Then, as the old mini van, or tahoe, or truck, made it was up the road towards us, we scrambled to our positions and began to sing our War Cry. 

"Rocks for sale! Ancient Indian Arrowheads (not) for sale! 

Valuable glass for sale! 

Don't miss your chance! 

Get it while it lasts!!!!". 

Slowing to a stop, my parents (bless their hearts) would examine our loot and comment on the experts explorers we were. They would choose the items they felt held the most "value" and would pay us accordingly, perhaps with a little bartering now and again. My aunt and uncle also helped us along in our business endeavor by purchasing some prized pieces as well. By the time the sun had set, we were richer equally in both money, and memories. 

When I was in 5th grade, my parents pulled the three of us out of school early one day. Confused, but not complaining, we skipped merrily to the truck. When we got there we were ELATED. Being towed on a trailer behind that old Ford were TWO, RED, FOURWHEELERS! Our exploring perimeter just grow exponentially! 

The next few years were spent following the trails our parents had made in the hills behind my house, and blazing a few of our own. Just like we did in our earlier years, we would always have a preset destination: The Tunnel, Frog Pond, The Tanks. We learned how to prime the choke, and the importance of always checking the gas level before heading out. We had a few...incidents, but nothing too major. We'd leave in the afternoon and head home as the sun started to set. The thrill of finding shards of glass from our earlier years was replaced with the adrenaline that comes from landing a jump or riding a berm. 

Eventually this was all replaced with busy schedules, boyfriends, cancer, and varying interest. Somewhere along the road, we all changed and we weren't "kids" anymore. Years passed where I didn't really see my older cousin except for at family gatherings during the holidays. It was a sad realization that our days as ninjas, archaeologists, and really, best friends, were over. 

In recent years, things have changed once again. We are all closer, we see each other more often, and we love to laugh about our glory days. Our fearless leader is now a mother of three beautiful babies. The pesky tag-along brother, (although still pesky) graduated with two degree in record time, is married to a beautiful woman, and is still up for any adventure. And me? Well, you guys know. I'm here, doing my thing, and loving every minute of it. 

As I look back on my childhood I can't help but look forward to the future of my own children someday. It warms my heart to know that they will most likely have cousins their age and nearby to make memories with. I hope that we live in a location where they can wander off on their own and use their imaginations to build a history, a story, a name. I look forward to buying their treasures and displaying them in our home (my grandma still has a "very valuable" rock collection in a glass case in her home). I hope that the allure of the great outdoors will be more than that of technology. 

I'm super grateful for my family and the life they provided for us. My dream is to carry it on.