eight

Behold the Meatball spinning....



This one is going down in the books as quite possibly one of my most favorite memories. We had just gotten out of the Broadway show, Mary Poppins, and my 8 year old, the Meatball starts dancing like one of the chimney sweeps. I was just able to capture the end result: spinning without a care in the world and why should she? She’s 8. Vivid memories of my childhood started at 8 and were filled with the tiniest little details: a purple coat with purple snow boots I wore to school, the black thin head band, my teacher, Ms. Hoekstra wore in her shoulder length blonde hair and opening up that can of Campbell’s ABC’s Vegetable soup every day for snack after school.
 

When I asked my own mother, the Colonel, if she remembered anything about being 8, she recounts tending to her parents store, helping her mother, Lola, with her six younger siblings and studying hard. I responded, ” Hmm, that doesn’t sound too fun, Colonel.” In her thick Filipino accent, she responds, “Well, dear, it was fun.” Period. Oddly enough, I believed her. While I was growing up the Colonel wasn’t really about fun or about playing with me but she did create the spaces for me to have my own fun. By the time I was in junior high, we had visited most national landmarks across the country, I had taken piano and swimming lessons and belonged to Brownies and AYSO. Now if I could only remember if the Colonel was there to have fun right along with me.

Which leads me to wonder what details the Meatball will remember of being 8? Will I be in them? More importantly, how am I contributing to help her create fun-filled memories? There are so many influences in the media and society enticing children to grow up faster and yet I’m happy to announce that at this time my meatball just wants to be 8. My job? To make sure that it stays that way.