I'm participating in a daily writing challenge (modeled after NaNoWriMo) during the month of November. I just happen to be posting every other day or so. November is slipping from my very hands! I'll be 41 before we know it. Run for your lives!
Prompt #3: What is your most distinct childhood memory?
I think about my childhood and come up with all kinds of memories. Making string cheese during Girl Scouts. Going skiing with my sixth-grade class. Moving from Santa Fe to Indianapolis when I was 11. Sneaking a smoke with my best friend. My family celebrating our half-birthdays during the summer. I can't come up with something truly distinct, but here's a memory I think of fairly often because it involves my brother.
My brother, David, for those who might not know, lives in Hawaii and I only get to see him once a year. Generally, the latter half of December is my favorite time of year. David comes to town and has to break out a winter coat after 11.5 months of sun and surf in Waikiki. (Last winter when it was -15 in Indy, I texted him to say that it was literally 90 degrees warmer where he lived.) It's a great time for my whole family. The four of us are together again, like some superhero cell that only knows its full power when all the directions are represented. Or some other vaguely Wiccan BS that comes to mind.
When David and I were kids, we went to one of the Disneys. World, Land, I can't remember. What I do remember is being young enough to get away with this prank and old enough to know better. We navigated one of those two-hour-long lines to get on Space Mountain Teacup Junction Rollercoaster Screamfest by pretending we saw our folks a few feet ahead and skipping the entire line. We'd pause next to a family and then fake surprise -- "There they are!" -- before running up to the next group of unsuspecting people patiently waiting their turn. We made it through the entire line in about 10 minutes and probably pissed off a lot of people. I remember hearing one guy yell "Hey!" but we didn't care. In record time, we made it onto some train/rollercoaster ride that wooshed through tunnels and left us breathless. I distinctly (ha!) remember David grabbing my arm during one of the wooshes and feeling very Big Sister and Important, like my only job was to protect him. This, by the way, is the same kid who, at four or five, made me sit next to the drain so he wouldn't end up in the sewer when we unstoppered the bathtub. Big sister, speedbump -- whatever. I'll always keep an eye out for him.