3-29 Writing Exercise - Three Childhood Memories

Random memories from the house I grew up in:

1) The beloved attic fan, droning and rumbling me to sleep every spring, summer, and fall before the heat forced the windows shut. I'd lay in the dark, the two windows to the right of my double bed open, and cool breezes were sucked in right over my bed, as I lay snuggled under this spectacularly silky, pine green comforter we inherited from my grandmother. I loved this blanket and would give anything to still feel my toes under it again. A constant bedtime refrain would drift down the stairs to my mom, "Can we have the fan?" There'd be this brief silent anticipation of "granted? Or denied?" and then after a few moments, the metal slats of the fan opening in the tiny hall ceiling right outside my bedroom door would whoosh open and heaven breezed in. Sleep would follow in minutes. I never felt so cozy and safe as I did on "fan nights."

2) My upstairs bedroom had a dormer window that opened up to a small, flat area holding a flower container, usually filled with plastic red geraniums. It was just large enough for me to sit on quite comfortably and during the summers, I used to climb out there at night, after the neighborhood had shut down and all were tucked safely in their homes. I'd do it during the day too, but it was best at night, when the sound carried and I could hear the dragcar sounds drifting over from the fairground speedway on race nights. When I got older, I'd smoke out there, overlooking my "domain", thinking life thoughts, wondering where my life would take me. When friends would spend the night, we would climb on up to the roof peak, and straddle the top - a leg on either side of the roofline and we'd smoke, and laugh, and plan our lives. The attic fan gave me the sense of total safety and security; the roof visits gave me my sense of freedom and independence, leaning outward, but still attached to home. I felt lucky to have the only house on the street that I could have done this. All other homes were one story and we were in a palace.

3) Pet history - Captain Flabbit the rabbit, Laird the black lab, Fluffy the white persian, Tag the cocker spaniel, Tiger the orange tabby, myriad hamsters that always escaped and/or died, (they always bit me, but never mom) multi-colored Easter chicks - I never knew where they ended up. They would just be gone once they started growing. Snakes in the back yard, kittens by the millions (we always were just getting rid of one litter when another was born), the tiny, furless baby squirrel that fell out of the tree and I fed it for about a week with an eye dropper and warm milk until it died. I took it to school with me to keep it alive and I remember getting special privileges to leave the class to feed it. I kept it wrapped up in a little shoebox.

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Quote of the day: Her heart beat hard enough to dim her hearing in pulses. Barbara Kingsolver - "The Prodigal Summer"
Chosen simply for the uniquely description of intense emotion. I can't remember the context of the passage anymore to know if she is describing fear, or love, or anxiety. But it doesn't matter really. The passage speaks of the moment when adrenaline pumps the heart hard enough to resonate in your ears. I, too, have heard the heart pulses in my ear and she captures that moment well enough for me to relive them.