remembering

   In celebration of the fact that I get to visit my beloved family members in the big SLC in just under a month, I thought I’d share a reminiscent story about my awkward childhood.

   Every summer after my family made the move from Utah to Montana, my younger sister and I were shipped off to visit Grandma for a week or two. My parents would drive us to the halfway point, give us a hug and $20, then probably do a few fist pumps as they drove away. I don’t blame them. Then we’d hop in the car with Grandma and start the trek toward our old stomping grounds.

   Spending those weeks at my grandparent’s house provided me with some of my fondest childhood memories. Shopping, driving around, eating Arctic Circle, going to IMAX movies, Lagoon days, etc. were my absolute favorite summer adventures. I’d brag all about it when school started back up in the fall when my friends would ask me about my new sparkly Lagoon keychain or the OTTERS 3D bookmark I faithfully kept with me at all times.

   Although we were on the go most of the time, we had some down days around the house as well. On the afternoons that it was simply too hot out to do anything productive or we had worn our poor grandparents out with our constant energy levels, my sister and I were to fend for ourselves.

   Luckily my grandma is awesome and always kept at least five big, fancy, puffy, colorful dress-up dresses in the guest closet so of course we’d immediately get ourselves into those puppies. I’d always choose the purple off-the-shoulder number and my younger accomplice would attempt to hold up a similar pink one made for someone about eight years older than her. We’d spin and twirl and tip toe and spin while we were tip toeing then jump while we were twirling and so on. That would go on for a good hour until our skin started to itch and our shoulders got sore from trying to keep our princess gowns from sliding completely off our curve-less bodies.

   Next was the dollhouse escapade. We’d haul out the two giant houses my grandma had stored in the basement and fight over who got the minivan and the baby with the pink pajamas. I’d obviously win then try to console my sibling by telling her the blue one was better anyway because it didn’t have a scratch on the back. You don’t see the scratch? It’s right there, I promise!

   There was no scratch.

   I’d get bored after a while because I was far too mature to be playing with dolls for two hours. So I’d convince my sister that now it was time to scooter! Scootering is fun, remember???

   So outside we’d go. The scooters were always stored by the old bikes and we’d try not to knock everything over as we wiggled the handlebars out. We’d ask if we could open the garage door then fly out and down the driveway, into the street, dodge the pothole, get to the sidewalk, avoid the sprinklers that seemed to always be on, circle around, go back across the street, back up Grandma’s driveway, and repeat. For hours.

   One time I made a rookie mistake and got my front wheel stuck in a driveway crack and face planted. Determined not to let the neighbor boy see my face turn eggplant purple, I got up and laughed as if I had planned it. Probably hard to believe considering I was 14 and at least 5’7” and normally people of that stature and age don’t “fall on purpose”, but it was worth a shot. Once our feet started to bleed from having to push ourselves on the asphalt, we’d retire to the backyard where we’d chase their adopted cat, Scruffy, around. My sister always wanted to hold Scruffy. You could tell because at the end of the trip she resembled Scruffy due to the amount of cat hair stuck to her clothing.

   After dinner, our friend Jessie from across the street would come over and it was back into the dresses! I’d let Jessie have the purple one and I’d stuff socks into the top of a white chiffon number with a beaded collar. So sexy. Then we’d beg Bompa to let us blast Celine Dion from his shop and choreograph a very emotional music video in the backyard. I was always Celine Dion, they were my backup dancers. Although you could usually find my sister somewhere in the corner trying to make Scruffy a tent out of the skirt of her pink dress. Hopeless.

   And that was how we’d spend our summer days at Grandma and Bompa’s house if we weren’t out being spoiled rotten. To this day my sister and I can still recall the oddest yet funniest memories from those summer break trips and reminisce for hours. My goal is to be able to provide my someday-kids with memories like my parents allowed me. Times change but those memories will always be close to our hearts.