Random Ramblings on Childhood


Let me give you a glimpse into my childhood. Because it was epic. Kind of like this picture.

I spent all my time (when I wasn’t in school) playing soccer, reading, practicing piano/voice, kayaking, sledding, swimming, etc. I played flute in marching band. I had a million opportunities, and I wasn’t entirely grateful for them.


The Maine coast is one of the most beautiful places on earth. Bar none.


Yes, that is a truck parked out on the frozen lake. It’s called ice fishing.

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So our marching band wasn’t impressive…piano went better for me.


I miss playing soccer. I was no good, but I loved every second.


My love for reading started young.


This is the only proper way to cook hot dogs.


Kayaking on the lake. My happy place.

I look back on these things with an admittedly intense amount of nostalgia. My memory has likely romanticized things quite a bit. But real life is just around the corner, and I wish I had appreciated these things more when they were my everyday life.

I miss the view from my bedroom window. I could see most of town from there.

I miss knowing every rut in the sidewalk between my house and the library. I miss being on a first-name basis with the librarians–all of whom have known me since my infancy.

I miss being able to walk down the street to my favorite hair salon. I miss having my favorite stylist who already knows how I want my eyebrows to look and gets what my hair will and will not do.

I miss my mom’s cooking. I miss my sister’s laugh. I miss the noises my house makes in the night. I do not miss vacuuming enough dog hair to spin into thread and weave a blanket. But I miss the dog. I miss my dad’s hugs.

I miss running on the gravel track around the high school football field. I miss the smell of clam strips coming from The Timberhouse Restaurant. I miss the crab rangoon from Wing Wah. I miss Moxie. I miss Dunkin and Tim Horton’s.

I miss the way the rain makes the old mill smell seep out of the buildings and pavement. Odd, yes, but I do.

I miss skating on the frozen lake. I miss kayaking after the ice is out, watching loons in the summer, and seeing what the fall leaves look like from the water.

I miss walking from the cold November air into a warm kitchen that smells like apple pie.

I miss the smell of my church. I miss the baby grand piano in the sanctuary. I miss the people who belong to it–my church family. There are too many of them I won’t see again this side of heaven.

I miss the view of Mt. Katahdin from Transalpine Rd., Penobscot Valley Ave. and the cemetery.

I miss being able to take day trips around Acadia National Park.

I’m grown up now. I’m far away. And wishing I could be a kid again isn’t going to change anything. But I have good memories, and God has great things in store for what’s ahead.


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