The Early Years
Chapter 3

Copyright© 2012 by JPM

I remember easily making friends at 9 years old.

Harland Drive. Springfield, Virginia.

I forget the number of our home.

Years ago I could still recall our telephone number as mom made sure we all knew it by heart.

I'm not sure why those numbers won't pop in for me. I am a numbers freak. I will glance at numbers and can easily recount them hours later. A phone number. A license plate number off of another vehicle.

My therapist had a little test to do with determining my level of anxiety/depression. Starting at 100, counting backwards by 7's. I started doing so, then realized she wanted me to do it out loud. I had already gotten down to 65 when I realized. Duh. I then did it out loud and she moved on to the next little test. A random word recall.

A color, a fruit, a season of the year, another color, an animal. I am also a word nutt. I love reading and breaking down words.

Reminds me of those spelling bee's we always had in school. I would get so excited because that was my element. Saying a word and then spelling it out.

I mentioned the go-karts we were all building that summer. The street behind us actually started at the top of our street. The development was Rolling Hill. And the hill that street went down was a little kids dream. We learned to build brakes on those little carts. No one was allowed to start a ride if they didn't have some way of slowing down or stopping.

I know this was the year I became scared of spiders.

We had woods everywhere in our neighborhood. And some of the spiders hanging out in those woods were monstrous to a little boy of 9.

Plastic models. I was introduced the year before and now it was a passion. Aircraft Carriers. Tanks. The latest Automobiles. Oh how I fell in love with the Pontiac GTO that year. I received the model at Christmas. I was great with glue. I had learned to use as little as needed and thus had less of a mess. Painting. Well, that was another story. But eventually I learned not to put it on so thick. LOL.

School. Friends. Playing outdoors until nearly dark. It was a wonderful year.

A young child's carefree existance.

The storm was coming. It was brewing in our home. Glimpses of arguments. Muffled yelling as the parents tried their best to not get too carried away when we were nearby.

Mommy yelling at daddy. Daddy yelling at mommy. Tears. We could hear it but had no idea the direction it was leading us in.

My main heroes that year were the astronauts. I was heartbroken when we lost our 3 young men during the testing. I can recall they were White, Grissom and Chaffee.

The wonders of 2012. I just did a quick lookup and realized I had the spelling down pat.

That reminds me. A few years ago there was a license plate honoring all of our fallen astronauts. I need to go find it. Yes, I ordered it. I needed it.

I recall crying when we heard the news. I felt so bad for their families.

The Apollo Space Program. The Saturn V Rocket. Oh, how my imagination wanted to soar right along with all of those brave explorers.

Memories. So many of them good. Some not so happy. I keep finding these memories where I have always kept them. Not locked away in some strange dark place. Living. Out in the open. Able to recall them and revisit them and sometimes smile at them.

Or maybe it is the wandering mind that knows these things are in my history. Only for some reason I have not brought them out to play in so many years.

 
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