Dancing to the music in my head…

When I was a little girl, there was no doubt I was a tomboy, through and through. There was simply no better way to spend the long hot Georgia summer days than to run barefoot through fresh-cut grass, catch crickets and lizards, climbing trees, and hopping from rock to rock in the creek behind my neighborhood.

That being said, I did have the occasional moment of girlishness (as is normal, even for tomboys). For example I remember making the long drive to visit my mama Summers and her mother (my great-grandmother) mommer in Cocoa Beach, Florida. Mommer was quite the character, having been quite the socialite during the roaring twenties and then losing everything during the great depression. I remember that her bedroom was sparse, with few photos from an earlier time and even fewer nick-knack type things. Each and every thing was special to her and she often had a story. I will always remember how careful she was with her few belongings.

One thing that stands out in my mind were her collection of scarves. I loved them. Soft..silky and sheer on my skin I felt like a princess….and she never once hesitated to let me play to my hearts content with them. It was our special moment.

Mommer passed when I was still a little girl, but I was still allowed to choose a couple items from her room to take as mementos. I knew immediately what I wanted. I chose two of the most beautiful scarves and a porcelain potpourri ball so I could always remember her scent. (I still have it on my dresser…and unbelievably it still faintly smells of her….)

well fast forward 20+years and I am a grown woman with a nature-loving tomboy of my own. Today I was cleaning out drawers, creating piles for hand-me-downs, good-will, etc when I came across those scarves. I smiled as they slid through my fingers, but being busy with the task at hand I set them aside. My daughter in her attempts to “help ” me was underfoot and so I was not surprised when she climbed onto the bed to check out what I was doing. Before I knew it, she had those scarves….wrapped around her, flinging them about like a cape….all with a look of sheer delight on her face. I remember that feeling.

So I set down my cleaning and spent the better part of the nest hour playing dress up, laughing and taking silly pictures of the two of us. When she finally moved on to something else (as is inevitably the case with a 22 month old) I admit was a little sad. I carefully folded those scarves and placed them back into the drawer, for now….

Someday I hope she looks back with fond memories of moments like these, moments of playful innocence that seems to be becoming rarer these days.

I love you Lakie….thanks for letting me be a little girl again, if only for a little while.