Childhood Home

My first childhood home has retained a magical quality for me. We lived there from when I was nearly 6, to when I was 10 years old. Only five years, but somehow, that home has remained with me my whole life. In fact, just last week, it was in my dreams yet again. There is an innocence and fascination in that home, which is not in the homes that followed. The only thing I can speculate differentiates that home from the rest is the fact that I was always a child in that home - not a teenager or young adult, like I was in our subsequent homes. 

As often is the case with childhood memories, they are larger-than-life. We had a lovely 'playborhood' culture, a term that didn't exist at that time, because that's how all neighborhoods were - you stepped outside your home after school, found other kids outside, and voila, there was your 'play date.' My school best friend lived three houses down the street - we walked back the 0.4 miles from school home together with her Lolo ('grandfather' in Tagalog) every day from 1st through 4th grade. I don't remember my mother ever coordinating or confirming with their family that Lolo would walk with us after school. I'm sure there were days when we did the walk back ourselves without thinking too much about it. We had other friends in the neighborhood as well - our next door neighbor had three daughters, two of which were close enough to me and my sister's age. And my mother's best friend lived 4 houses down, around the corner. It was the home I would walk to if I came home from school and my mother wasn't home. If that aunty wasn't home, there was another aunty up the street and at the end of the court, a short five minute walk away that I could go to. In the era of landlines, this was the back-up plan. 

One memory that has fragments in my head is of this one particular evening: I think it was close to summer, because it was still bright outside and the kids had already gone in from our after school play. I don't know if my mother heard the sound of the accident itself, or the commotion that ensued afterwards - but we found ourselves outside on our sidewalk, along with all our neighbors as spectators. A car had come crashing into the house two doors down. One can only guess how that happened - taking a turn too fast and skidding out of control? It slammed into the pillar of the garage, and bricks lay piled on the crushed front of the car. I remember nothing further about this scenario, and wonder if my mother remembers this particular evening, as we observed this scene together. Was the driver ok? Were the members of the house ok? Now I can't help but wonder about whose insurance paid for what... 

Cutting to present day - we live in a ranch-style single family home that reminds me a lot of that first home. Size wise, this home is larger than our original home - but I was a kid, so that 1100 sq. foot house felt pretty big to me. We have the closest thing to a 'playborhood' one can hope for in a (sub)urban community these days - my son has friends in the house across the street, around the corner, and an aunty who lives a little further down the street. School is 0.4 miles away, and sometimes I chaperone the walk home with my son's school buddy. 'Sometimes' being the operative word - because aside from the fact that we aren't afforded the regularity of the same schedule every day - we are now in that unique circumstance that all children have been schooling from home for the last year. Our son finally went back last week, in time to experience the remaining nine weeks of third grade in an actual classroom setting.  

There are many parallels I often draw to my childhood in that first home and my son's childhood here, but that's a story for another day. Lately, I have been sleeping in the guest room of the house, because that mattress is best suited for my healing back. The guest room is the front most room, and the window looks out the front yard of the house. I can't tell you how many times I have thought of that car, crashing into the front of the home, and wondered - what if a freak accident like that happened one night when I'm sleeping in the guest room? It's a terrible, morbid thought, fueled by irrational fear and anxiety. And, of course, it stems from the image of the car wreck I witnessed 30+ years ago outside my home. 

It makes me think, just how powerful images, and feelings experienced in early childhood are. Of course, this is a whole huge topic, and the basis of all our human psychology. They shouldn't even call it 'child psychology.' Just psychology. Because EVERYTHING in your life comes back to your childhood. And I truly mean everything. 

And so I bring us to this weekend. Five young children, from the ages of 6-11, and a dog, experienced the magic of childhood in a way that has long been forgotten. They went on a hike in a (backyard) forest with their elder didi (15 years old), went off-path, and got lost. No cell phones, no adults, and they didn't know where they were. 

But they figured it out. They looked around, used land marks as clues, made rational choices, and found their way home. In the meantime, the parents had started wondering if they should be concerned that the hike had gone on for over 45 minutes, and started a search-party. Two of us walked to the exit point of the hike, shouted for them, and heard their excited voices in response (a relief, no doubt). In what I can only describe as exhilarated, I heard a young voice shout, "We just had a REAL adventure!!!" I smiled, my heart full, and took in this extraordinary, precious moment: a happy-ending after the brief uncertainty of which way this story would go. The remainder of the walk home, we heard the various accounts of the kids' adventure, each sharing in their age-specific way. The teenager, empowered by her leadership; the children, amazed by their resilience and deductive reasoning; and the group bonded together by an experience they all shared together. 

And so, the memory of this hike will grow with time. It will leave an indelible mark in their hearts, in the core of their beings, in the fabric of who they are, and who they will become. May we be able to give our children many more such adventures - where they find themselves in amidst the unknown, yet come out triumphant ... or at least come out the other end. 

Heading off into their adventure. The time stamp of this image told us how long the kids had been gone.

L to R: Nishad (9), Aarav (8), Rika (6), Risha (10), Simba, and Ria (11). Not in picture - Simran (15)