Project Say Something: Childhood Neighborhood
Question: What was your neighborhood like growing up?
I’m a little afraid of answering this question. I think I’ll get grounded just for remembering my neighborhood. Which, I think, a good way to start is by saying that one summer, I spent the entire summer grounded. Not like, “You’re grounded for the whole summer” grounded but the every time I turned around it was a couple of days here, a week there as the summer days were wooshing by.
There were a lot of kids my age in my neighborhood. Girls, boys, with lots of other friends our ages that spent a lot of time in our neighborhood. A bunch of young teenagers always hanging out together is not a good thing. Not when it consisted of sleep-outs night after night, running around town (on foot, of course) at all hours of the night, the ages being jr. high to high school and even some college and none of us having any sense of well… sense. Winters may have been lacking the sleep-outs on some random person’s lawn but it didn’t limit the nights spent watching movies or playing games or getting in to some sort of trouble in someone else’s house.
It was a very fun neighborhood, even with all the trouble we would get in to and despite the fights that would start because we were such a mixed (and mixed up) group. My favorite memories of growing up are all things from that neighborhood, with those neighbors. But so are some of my worst memories. I learned a lot there though. About life, about people and about myself. I thought the world rotated for the friends there and yet, I don’t have one of them left and haven’t for ages. Well, that’s not entirely true. The one friend I had who didn’t get in to trouble with the rest of us, who kept me grounded and endlessly listened to me go on and on and on about the most recent crush while I’m sure just wanted to roll her eyes back into her head is still in touch off and on. And I’m okay with that. I can’t imagine where my life would have turned out had I stayed in with the rest of them. It wouldn’t have been good, that’s for damn sure. And I am sure my parents are breathing a sigh of relief that I realize that. And yet still wanting to bop me upside the head for those many years of torture and torment that I lovingly gave them.