One of those ways is my childhood.
I grew up in an awesome neighborhood.
It had one entrance/exit, 4 parks (two on the lake, one bmx track, and one with baseball/football field and tennis courts), a lake to swim in, and lots of woods to explore (but were FILLED with porn. Who were those dirty boys stashing those magazines under every log in the neighborhood?! And why did my friends and I ALWAYS seem to find it?!).
As I recall, I'd leave home and play outside all day.
Only coming home for meals then again at twilight.
Every kid had their own call to come home. Mine was my dad's whistle.
Like a dog, I knew it from a pretty good distance.
And if I didn't zip home ASAP I was in BIG trouble.
I thought most of those feelings were nostalgia about the "old days."
But this summer we've started heading back to the parks a little more and more when we go visit my mom (who still lives in the same house- which I love).
Today I took the kids on a solo trip to the lake to swim, and it felt right. Felt like home. Felt like my childhood.
The boys had a fishing net my dad gave Mark ages ago (which I've flirted with throwing away after picking it up MANY MANY times).
I'm glad I haven't thrown it away yet.
Instantly, there was a crowd of boys huddled together trying to catch any of the poor little fishies swimming around the dock. It kept them entertained for 3 1/2 hours!
There's a slide the kids could zip down into the lake.
There's a floating dock with a diving board.
And my kids fearlessly (well 3 out of 4 were fearless) dove in and enjoyed all of the amenities with reckless abandon.
I sat on the grass watching them entertain themselves and looked over a lake that holds countless memories for me growing up.
It feels special to have such strong ties to the place where I grew up.
Roots are priceless.
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