So many. So many.
I remember being about two years old, and my parents would put me to bed at night. Lifelong insomniac that I am, I would pretend to go to sleep, then quietly slip out of my little bed. We had an unfinished basement, and my father would work down there at night, building little things out of wood. Always something practical; my father may not have had an artistic flair with his creations, but they served their purpose well and he was proud of them. I remember peeking through the vent in the floor (I think it was a heating vent, but there was nothing behind mine, so I could see into the basement), and watch my daddy working. He was always listening to the Cars or Devo, and sometimes the B-52’s. Sometimes I’d drop tiny things through the vent, just to see if it would freak him out. When he did see anything I dropped (feathers from my pillow, or bits of cotton batting), he obviously knew it was me, and he gave me the hard eye through the vent and said sternly, “Go to sleep!” I giggled and back away from the vent, and when he was busy again, I went to my big window with the gauzy white curtains. Outside, in the moonlight, was the older girl from next door. She was a teenager, and her name was Rhonda. She had a friend over, and they were in the side yard, playing badminton (however, at the time, I thought it was tennis). I remember tapping on the window, trying to get her attention. I was hoping she would let me out so I could play “tennis” with her and her friend. When she did see me, she laughed and told me to get back into bed. My dad came into the room behind me suddenly, I jumped halfway out of my skin, and he came over, picked me up, and put me back into bed. He told me to stay put and I did. He left the door open and I knew I couldn’t sneak anymore, because if they passed my door I would get caught. Sigh.
I remember when mom and dad bought an acre of land, and the day that came when the cement trucks came and built the foundation of our soon-to-be-new home. They were so proud of every little step forward they made with that house, and when the foundation was in, we called some family members over to celebrate. All it was at the time was a big, rectangular cement frame, with a slot for a door cut out and a few windows. But we were so happy. I remember that evening, my dad set up a little stereo inside (attached to a million miles of extension cord and a generator), and played Devo. I remember a song about “Blockhead”, and “Pink Pussycat” (because it was my favourite. I loved kittycats. I was three or four years old!), and my favourite today, “The Day My Baby Gave Me A Surprize”. We danced all around the inside of the foundation in single file: My dad led the way, my two goofy uncles, Mark and Chris (RIP, uncle Chris, crap, now I might cry!), and me pulling up the rear of our strange little formation. We danced as silly as possible, and everyone kept laughing at me, though at the time, I didn’t know why. I thought I was just as good as my silly uncles and my daddy! My mom and nanny stood together in the doorway, laughing at the lot of us.
I remember one of my tiny dolls with a cloth body broke open, and she was full of beans! This fascinated me to no end. I hid the tiny beans under the kitchen table, and dropped them into vents.
Much older - I was 16 years old. Probably the best year of my life. But one night in particular stands out. I went on a camping trip with my best friend and his family to Maquapit Lake. His grandparents had a big set up out there, some huge RV type deal, a little dock, all that good stuff. They invited us all up there, but only my friend’s parents could stay in the big RV, the rest of us had to make do with whatever else we could bring. I got the tent all to myself, being the only teenage female. My friend (let’s call him Adam) slept in the car nearby.
The trip itself was fun, but that night… I will never, ever forget it. Around 2am, Adam came tapping on my tent flap (shut up, pervs!), and I came out to join him and his cousin Tony near the long-burned-out campfire. We sneakily smoked our cigarettes (naughty, naughty children!), and then the three of us headed down to the little dock.
That night there was a meteor shower! It was midsummer, the night was warm, though I was shivering a tiny bit. We laid beside each other on the dock, staring up at the beautiful stars, just talking to each other. The water lapped below us, so gently, so relaxing… everything in my life, at that exact moment, was perfect. I wasn’t in love with anyone, not even a crush. Well… I was in love, but not in love… not with a* person*… you know? Er. Hard to explain. I had no worries. I felt warm even though I was shivering, I felt good, I felt right, I felt loved and I felt loving to everything. Every star I wished on was simply a wish for everyone to have a night like this, to see, if only for a moment, what I see, and feel what I feel. If ever I was a poet, that was the one time.
Adam took my hand, and when Tony left, he said that he would love me forever and ever and ever. There was no tension, not sexual, emotional, or otherwise. I returned the sentiment. There was no kissing, there was no anything, it just was what it was. I believed it, and still do. I do not know if it still holds true today, but I know at that exact moment, he meant it, and I did, too. Because I loved everybody at that moment, even the people I hated. Nothing mattered anymore. Just those stars. I wasn’t shivering because I was cold. I was shivering because I was ecstatic.
No, there was nothing but tobacco in those cigarettes. 
(they were mine, I would know!)
I remember my little brother coming to my bedroom door one day, knocking, and seeing that I was frustrated with something, decided he would give me some advice. I shut up for a moment and decided to listen; he was always the dearest person to my heart in my family, and still is today. So I waited for his sage advice.
“When I was your age,” he began… but got no further, because I couldn’t stop laughing.
I remember a balmy summer night when I was a teenager, kicking the sheets off of my bed and just feeling uncomfortable. I got up and wandered out into the living room in my pyjama shorts and T-shirt, barefoot. The hardwood floors felt cool on my feet, and I liked it. I looked out of the patio doors. There was a full moon, and it was beautiful out. I opened the sliding doors and stepped onto the patio. The wood felt nice on my feet, too. I remember feeling happy as I gazed across the back lawn, and it smelled so sweet. Just beyond the lawn was a big “tin can” building; the blueberry plant. It had been there so long that it was just part of the scenery. Beyond that was the line of trees about 100 feet deep, and on the other side was a river. Beyond that was the main highway. The highway from the part of the woods I’m from really isn’t very busy - not compared to here in Seattle! - only two lanes in most places. I mean, you know, one lane on each side of the road. Sometimes it widens into two on each side, but that’s it. Even so, there was always a little bit of traffic out there, and I could see teeny, tiny car lights away over the hills (the house is sitting at the top of a pretty big hill, so one’s line of sight is well over the line of trees, and you can literally see for miles out over the hilltops from the vantage point of my parent’s patio). Big transports used the highways often; the pulp and paper mill was nearby. From where I stood, I could faintly hear traffic noises, dulled down to the point that they were barely recognisable as such. Sometimes, you could faintly, faintly hear a jet overhead. I found this all to be relaxing and wonderful, and it was cooler outside than on my too-warm bed, so I hopped into my father’s hammock, and fell sound asleep.
That was the first time. It became a habit on warm, clear nights. Have you ever heard the song “Come and Play in the Milky Night” by Stereolab? The noise at the very beginning, before the guitar comes in, and it plays throughout the song - that noise reminds me so much of those calm, beautiful nights - the softest hum of highway traffic in the distance, lulling me to sleep on sweet summer nights.
Well damn. Now I’m homesick.
I can’t pick a favourite out of those I wrote above. They’re each pretty darn good in their own respect. They all make me want to take a trip back home again. Or better yet, a trip to the past again…
