hello-myyouth-blog

[hello-myyouth-blog]

#magic #light #youth #memories #perspective

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[hello-myyouth-blog]

#wonder #memories #kid

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[hello-myyouth-blog]

Magic

I was eight years old and remember waking up in the early morning, driving to the airport, and boarding onto the plane. I felt eager and thrilled to travel to the land I had only previously dreamed of – Disneyland. Walking into the park for the first time warmed my heart. The cobalt sky shone above my head as I stood before the large gates, welcoming the pleasure Disneyland had to offer. I remember experiencing the hot sun beaming down on my enthusiastic face, wanting to explore every route possible. I stood mesmerizing the statue of the creator himself, Walt Disney. I was ecstatic to be standing on the cobblestone walkway, worn shiny and smooth from footsteps trampling over top. I heard children of all ages squealing with delight. I craved to explore the fantasy and excitement of Walt’s vision. The loud shrieks encouraged me to experience every festivity there was. I saw long lines of tenacious children, clenching onto their buttery popcorn and rainbow, swirly lollipops. My face, a vibrant rosy colour, was beaming with glee, and uncontrollable excitement. Readiness was all I embraced, as I was ambitious to endure the next expedition. The journeys the park gave me forever lived on in my heart, even now as I walk into the park twenty years later with my child. I regain the magical presence within me and release the spirit of Disney deep within. My daughter clenches my hand anxiously and nervously. I gently squeeze her hand with a tender smile. Strolling around the park, my inner eight-year-old reignites and explodes with past happy memories. My daughter resembles confusion, apprehension, and bewilderment. She gives me the occasional smile, acting like every other child, but nothing like herself. She is putting on a mask, concealing her boredom. She is disappointed. I am eager to please, to ignite a spark of magic in her just like when I was a curious child. As we walk through the enchanting park, I introduce her to every magical princess that stumbles upon our path. Not one princess sparks the inner magical delight in her. My child discovers Mickey Mouse’s house. She hesitantly wonders if Mickey Mouse is in the plastic-like home. She looks to me for reassurance and I nod slowly. I guide her inside, remembering when I too stepped hesitantly into the cartooned house. She apprehensively walks around each room in the home, touching and inspecting each object. She anxiously fears she has missed Mickey in a hidden room. As we walk to the end of the hall, she runs into a room with a red, small door with a plastic brown nob. She turns the handle readily and runs inside. I follow in pursuit and my eyes light up with Disney magic as I see once again the black, round eared mouse – Mickey Mouse. The camera flashes, freezing in time our smiles, a moment where Disney magic has sparked the magic between mother and child. 

[hello-myyouth-blog]

Poverty was the greatest motivating factor in my life.

Jimmy Dean

https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/jimmy_dean_412461?src=t_poverty

[hello-myyouth-blog]

#dreaming #ball #park

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[hello-myyouth-blog]

#hidden #dream #notlikethem #wish #baseball

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[hello-myyouth-blog]

A Kid’s Dream

Fall’s crisp, cozy leaves turn into winter’s icy, cold frost. Winter transitions into spring’s blooming, bright sunshine. Spring blossoms into summer’s scenic, everlasting days.  Summer – a time for laughter, play, and memories. When I was a kid the park was my favourite place to go on a hot summer day. Every day of my two-month summer vacation, I insisted on going to my happy place. I woke up each morning to the sounds of birds chirping and sunshine beaming through my curtained windows. Lifting the covers off of me, I sunk my little toes into the carpet and walked to the kitchen to pour my favourite sugary cereal into my plastic bowl. Every day at noon, my small feet would begin their trek to the park. Stepping their way across the pavement, feeling every thump and crevice on the path. Gravity began to push me down while my feet stepped up the escalating hill, pushing on to see the top of the park. The scent of fresh cut green grass blew on the dusty baseball diamond. Kids played baseball, ran around, and screamed. Kids were just like me in every way except one – I could not play baseball. My loving mother and thoughtful father were devoted and considerate. Nevertheless, my parents were not wealthy. My parents were confined to money’s restrictions and borders. I too was confined. My wishes and dreams were limited. They continuously explained to me that the enrollment in exciting team sports were not part of the strict, crammed family budget. I hid alone below the rusted, metal bleachers under the scoreboard. My eyes like two lights full of curiosity and envy of the other kids who played a sport they treasured. The stomping of feet and the munching of food filled my ears. The aromas of steamy hot dogs and crunchy caramel corn lingered under the bleachers. I felt the dirt on my knees and the cobwebs against my neck. I heard the cries and cheers of the crowd. I heard my small voice cheer alongside the team on the bench, imagining I too was a baseball star in uniform. I pictured myself wearing a uniform instead of shorts and a plain shirt, but in reality, I had my torn baseball cap, the one I found in the lost and found box behind the concession. After endless repetitive days, the coach found me and noticed my loyalty and passion for the sport. He questioned my habits and why I was not on the field with the other little players. I told him my plight. His eyes filled with sorrow and bewilderment by my dilemma. He offered me to assist the team by being the scorekeeper. My heart rose with excitement and my ears ringed of gladness. He continued to talk, however his words rushed over my head as excitement filled my being. His mouth looked as though it were moving in fast forward and I could barely contain my emotions. I accepted wholeheartedly this duty and felt I was a baseball player just like the other kids. A void in my heart was filled on that day in my childhood park.

[hello-myyouth-blog]

#light #discovery #spooked #halloween #found

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#Halloween #trick-o-treat #lost #light 

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[hello-myyouth-blog]

Halloween Light

           Flashlights, jokes, scares, and hollers illuminate the dark, black night sky. Streetlights shine down on the ridged pavement like spotlights accentuating the road’s hidden path. Once bellies are full and costumes are worn, one by one single circular lights shine from doorsteps and begin walking the tantalizing dark streets of the town. Streets soon full of children and the occasional rowdy group of rambunctious, loud teenagers. It is Halloween night, a night of jokes and spooks. My friends and I join the trek into the foggy night air to fetch sweet candy and chase unwanted eerie ghosts. Children glide and prance down the concrete sidewalks in their unique costumes, while we daringly run in a competition down the corridors to each lit up house, buckets in hand. My bucket becomes heavier as cheerful neighbours throw candy at me like colourful confetti on a sunny day. I climb up each step and smell the burning, candle lit pumpkins; the walkway to an open door offers the glorious prize – candy. We run up and down the streets gaining the candy, and returning to the doors of those with the best options to offer. My bucket is full and I run home alone to dump my treasure to continue on with the Halloween fun. I venture out of my safe house for round two, searching for my friends, yet I am lost in a crowd of curious children. I walk steady on the streetlamp lit path looking in every crevice for a familiar face. The streetlamps begin to fade and the street begins to darken. My plastic, faint flashlight is barely able to brighten my way, so I click the switch off. I discover a small and tired home, situated at the far most back of a long, narrow lot encapsulated by bushes and soaring dark trees. I see a flickering light perched on the door. My feet frightfully stumble along the straight walkway leading to the tattered red door. I cautiously reach my shaky hand to knock on the spooky door. My hand, barely inches away from the door, pulls back when the light flickers out and an ethereal glow brightens in the front windows. My body shudders and my legs stiffen. My mind races through all the possibilities of what could be in the house and I come to the decision that I am in the presence of an unearthly being. The hovering light surrounds me, tracing my body and soul. The glow steadies in my face, still, unwavering. My body is still and with this stillness the glow slowly flickers away, floating into the window behind the woodland– the refuge of its mundane home. I trace its tranquilizing spark into the dusky wood, children far gone, and me a follower. I am gone like those before me on Halloween nights. Forever I am lost and my mind a haze. With the loss of flashlights and streetlights, is the discovery of an eternal flame.