For a museum curator, I don't get into nostalgia in a big way. I rarely use my camera to capture events like birthday parties or Christmases. My photos are either still in their original paper sleeves, or thrown around in a box somewhere (maybe). I prefer to live my life and archive someone else's. But today, walking across campus during my break, I got a strong, powerful reminder of one of my favorite childhood moments. You must now read about it. Yay for you.
If you live in the Mid-South/Southeast, you know it has rained for 10 out of the last 11 days. Today, the sun peeked out for a few moments, as if to say, "Hello! I didn't forget you. We'll meet again." The temperature, which has been hovering at a cool-but-comfortable 70 spiked upwards like all mid-south Mays are wont to do. 11 minutes of humid, sunny wonderfulness reigned. As the day sat upon its brief throne, I caught the strong scent of water, grass, and a whiff of chlorine. Instantly transported to being 7 in my red plastic kiddie pool, still small enough to get all the way under the water. It is the first time I remember being brave enough to open my eyes underwater. Things went fine until I snorted in water, trying not to laugh at how my sister's toes looked like hotdogs.
Hee hee! Thanks for that, Mother Nature.