Blogtober Day 1: Where I Come From

Here we go! Golly gee, I'm so excited. Let's get started! 

October 1: Describe where or what you come from. The people, the places, and/or the factors that make up who you are.

Welcome to Storybook Land. This was the Fourth of July during my sophomore year of college with some friends.

I am from Aberdeen, South Dakota. I grew up in a "small" town of 26,000 people where its residents plan life around a train schedule. We've got a castle in our Land of Oz and seek a claim to fame with Frank L. Baun as a hero resident, although he is from Iowa (I think?). 

Family

My parents are the bestest ever. I know, you're shocked I think that highly of my parents. These are the people who sit at home on a Friday night and scream out the answers to Family Feud. I have an older brother who should be knighted because he teaches middle school science and anyone, ANYONE, who wants to do that everyday deserves some sort of international recognition. 

College Homecoming several years ago

Gotta love a new Barbie from your Brother!

I grew up a competitive kid. I was also participating in something, head of something, president of blah, blah...you could say I was overly involved and loving it. I played sports -- soccer, basketball, volleyball. I lived half in a fantasy world, half in reality (don't think that has changed). I would make up stories with my massive collection of Barbies; pretend my bike was a horse and ride to save the day; I would walk around on the playground singing made-up songs to myself. I may have also been that weirdo kid.

Just so much 90s occurring here. PS I'm in the middle (if ya didn't guess).

Oh, and this may be cheating but, in college, I wrote a bit about my childhood home. I moved out of this house in 6th grade so lots of memories. There are a lot of insights into growing up in that house. Like I said, we've definitely got our quirks. I thought I might share it with you, too. 

This house I talk about is on the bottom left. How cute, right?

"“Haley, go back inside and make sure you have everything,” she said.

“Mom, I already checked!” I replied.

“Check again!”

“Fine!”

I stomped back towards the house, slowing as I approached the door, realizing that this might be the last time I yanked open the screen door that always stuck, quickly by-passed the entrance to the dungeon-like basement for the much brighter all white stairs leading me into the kitchen.

As I enter the kitchen the ghost of “Paul Harvey News and Comment” playing through the black long boxed radio lingers in my mind surrounded by the scent of cinnamon rolls and laughter from the good times of family dinner. I begin triple checking for items left behind, seeing nothing but white cabinets, appliances and golden brown wood floor, I continue on pacing quickly through the house. I linger in the places I spent the most time, hoping that I don’t find something I forgot so my mom is not right again. Walking quickly on the wooden floors of my house into dining room and living room which are filled with memories from the Christmas tree decorating I never was able to help with and the sounds of Sunday afternoon football games, I see nothing. Not even a window covering to prevent the sun blinding me as I check for forgotten items.

Nothing open spaces of emptiness remain in those rooms I sprint up the stairs. It’s almost time to leave for school. As I hear the creaking and cracking of that third step I’m reminded of sliding down the stairs in swishy sweatpants with my brother or the times when we, Michael and I, were not so well behaved being forced to sit on that creaky stair in time out. Eventually, I reach the top banister, gasping for air, I automatically, as I’ve done thousands of times, take a sharp left heading down the short hallway for my room.

 This is the place I’ve grown up. I’ve danced to one too many songs in this room, sang off key to one too many of those songs and read one too many books here. This is my space. Now, it has nothing; nothing but the memories in my own head. If I wrote them onto post-it notes, I could fill the walls like wallpaper. Here I stand, five foot  seven inches, long brown hair, dressed in the navy pants and light blue polo uniform, ready to go off to another day of sixth grade and this, this, is the last time in my old room."

This is, undoubtedly, be the longest post of the month. Too many ways to interpret this prompt! I  could share more but, tomorrow is a new day! 

Yours xx