The Cat-Fish Chronicles : Childhood

As Tristan gets older, and I think about him getting older and experiencing new things, it reminds me of how I felt the first time I experienced the same things.

One of my favorite smells was the rain on the first day of school. I grew up in Anchorage, Alaska, and nearly every year, the first day of school was a rainy one. Or at least damp and misty. I loved walking outside, clad in my brand new clothes and shoes, my backpack full of notebooks and fancy pencils that I had been admiring since purchasing them, and smelling that distinct Alaska rain smell. Sometimes, here in the fall, after it has rained, it almost smells the same and I feel like I am home. Do you remember those days? When you would get so excited to go back to school shopping, and you'd get to pick out all your supplies, and get new shoes because your feet grew two sizes over the summer, and then the crisp, clean clothes you weren't allowed to touch till the first day? My mom always tried to make us change out of them and put on play clothes when we got home, but it never lasted long.

Then the summers. Summers back home were amazing, we, all of the kids on my street, would play outside until 11 PM, and our parents wouldn't think twice about it. The sun was still up, so it was okay. There were woods by my house that we loved to play in, me and all the boys (I was the only girl in my neighborhood). We made forts, tread trails through the devil's club, picked watermellon berries, and played hide and go seek with the moose. There was an old wagon trail in the woods from the old homestead days, and a rusted up old truck we used to joke had been broken down there since before Alaska was made a state. Maybe it had been. We would dig holes in my back yard, just to see how deep we could get before we got to the grey clay and glacial silt. And we would go on adventures in the gravel pits.

The last time I went home, the gravel pits had been filled in and built over. The trails we had made in the woods were over grown, but that silly truck was still there. It's interesting how differently you see the world as you grow up. And how much you miss the excitement of being a child. Everything is a new discovery, the innocence makes it fun. When you could still imagine and pretend, and when toys could come to life. Nick and I have been collecting hotwheels cars for Tristan, we even bought him a car rug to drive them on. We both had them growing up, and I have to admit, it has been a lot of fun playing with those cars and making driving noises with Tristan, who giggles and loves every minute of it.

I hope we end up somewhere that Tristan can play and explore like I did. There aren't really any woods around here in the desert. And it hardly ever rains on the first day of school. I guess for me though, as long as he can have fun and be a child as long as possible, that will be enough.

Writing all this has made me really miss Alaska, and I realize no matter where I go, it will always be my home. The most beautiful and wild place I have ever been. I hope Tristan can enjoy it one day. I'd love to take him there, and show him my old playgrounds, and I know Nick would love to take him fishing. But I'm glad we are able to experience childhood again vicariously through Tristan, it's a lot of fun to remember.