Friday, January 25, 2008

it's not far to never never land

Recently I was eating lunch with a friend when a song came on in the restaurant that caused me to interrupt myself and laugh. I explained that the song always brought back a specific memory of roller skating in our basement when I was a little girl (around the age of seven). We lived in a brick two-story home in the Louisville Highlands, within walking distance of Cherokee park, not far from Big Rock. In my childhood brain we might as well have lived in a mansion. Because this house had a large stand-up attic and an sizeable unfinished basement I thought we lived in a four-story home. I LOVED this house. I loved this house with its three bedrooms, one and ½ baths (including a water closet upstairs, that my cousin, Michelle, and I got locked in once…I'll save that for another time), and its sunroom and screened in porch. I loved climbing the dogwood tree in the front yard. I loved the large poplar tree, in the back yard, that dropped fruit that became mushy on the ground and under my bare feet. I loved playing basketball with my dad in the driveway and riding my pink and blue Powderpuff Big-Wheel on the sidewalk in front. I loved this house, even though the walls in my bedroom were covered in an ugly American Bicentennial era eagle clad wallpaper. Hey, it was a parsonage. And in parsonage life you can’t always get what you want. But you find sometimes, you find, you get what you need. Like a concert floor in the basement, perfect for rolling skating.

I would go down to the basement, put on my blue skates with red and white stripes and blue wheels. I’d turn on the radio, and skate around on the concrete floor. This was during the era of Dorothy Hamil, and, yes, I had the haircut. I also had the doll. I clearly remember skating to Christopher Cross’s “Sailing” when it came on the radio. I whipped and whirled around the basement floor pretending to be an Olympic figure skater ... Sailing, takes me away… as my soundtrack. Around the metal poles ... to where I always heard it could be … towards the wooden staircase, under which we hid out during tornado warnings … just a dream and the wind to carry me ... towards the washer and dryer … and soon I will be free … figure eights around another pole ... And when the wind is right you can sail away …. It was kinda like... my own personal Xanadu.

4 comments:

Bobbi said...

Ahhhh, Sailing...takes me to rafting on the River with a friend and then tying the raft to a tree in order to sun ourselves.

Sarah H. said...

heehee! that's a fun memory!

J.P. said...

What a great story! Thank you for sharing that!

Katie said...

Great memory!