I got an email from an old friend today. It was from this kid who lived across the street from me for a long time when I was growing up. He asked how everything was and how my brother, Andy, was doing. He told me how he takes his son around to the places we used to play and how it reminds him of all the stuff we used to do.
For a while I lived in a small green ranch with a couple apple trees in the back, and this weird, short climbing tree in the front yard. It was a nice street from before all the subdivisions started popping up. Our backyard butted up to this small hill, and behind that a huge field that ran behind all our neighbors houses as well. There were some power lines, and beyond that was corn fields with the exception of a small swampy area. Several houses down one way there was a sort of really small, winding creek that went back to that swamp.
It was a really cool place to grow up, and hearing from this guy brought all these childhood memories rushing back. I remember spending entire days back there just running around, and climbing trees. Looking for all sorts of things and sometimes finding arrowheads, or old treasures that had been buried for years. Sometimes we would float things down the stream to see who's "boat" would win.
We played roller hockey in a church parking lot at the end of the street, and some days we would just run around and beat the hell out of each other. This guy Jason, who emailed me, got shot in the ass by my brother with a pellet rifle once. On accident. From two feet away.
I remember staying up late playing video games, and pickup games of baseball, and playing soccer as an awkward, gangly little kid. I had a lot of fun growing up and getting scraped up and muddy. I think I'm going to try to do that a little more often. I've gotten a little stuck in routine lately, but I'm going to try to remedy that.