Deja Vu

Nearly thirty years ago I was this little girl. Big boots, an Oregon summer, blonde wild hair, and someone's big green boots.

My sister and I looked forward to a trip to our Aunt Sally's cabin like it was Disneyland. It was better than Disneyland. The smell of dry summer grass, oak trees, and ripe blackberry bushes sustained us, was a scent of nirvana. There was dirt at Sally's, piles of kittens to sleep with, a river, mosquitos, push-up popsicles, cousins, and adventure. We loved it more than anything.

So it was with great nostalgia that I looked up in my sister's Oregon kitchen to see my little daughter trying on workboots, or caught a sight of her picking blackberries among the chickens, or piling on top the dog. Her hair at night smelled like warm Oregon grass and sun, her face was dirty from honest, country, play. If those scenes and scents were nirvana in my childhood, smelling and seeing them layered upon my sweet child is, if even possible, better.

Comments

[Myers]

Beautiful, vibrant memories ... this experience you had (the whole time at your sister's) just sounds so fulfilling in so many ways ... hurrah!

[nataliechristensen]

Yes, very fulfilling. Totally awesome.