Day 18, Saturday: Tell a story from your childhood. Dig deep and try to be descriptive about what you remember and how you felt.
Ps. I’m a day late on all of these lately.
Hmm, I remember when I caught a pop fly on the t-ball field. I was the pitcher wearing bright pink spandex shorts. I remember feeling guilty for crying less when my 2nd dog died than when my 1st dog died. I had friends around. And I remember being terrified of getting locked inside Six Flags when they announced the park would be closing. And oh ya, there was that time I nailed my back handspring in gymnastics class, and I literally thought I was en route to the Olympics.
But the childhood memory that most prominently stands out to me, besides the dream I had in which I was eaten by a mascot in a manger in a forest, is the time I accidentally blew a nose full of snot on my friend. My nickname wasn’t tornado nose for nothing. Nestled close in the backseat, my friend Kate and I arrived at another friend’s house to pick her up for a birthday party. I think it was mine? Anyway, I laughed and the most giant wad of snot to ever leave my nostril landed right on her skirt. I think I still remember the pattern of the fabric. Black and white checker? I don’t, however, remember her freaking out. Which is a big deal, right? Or maybe it was such a normal occurrence with my stormy sinuses that it didn’t even phase her. In which case I am so sorry if I caused her repeated childhood trauma. I’m not sure how I felt. You would think mortified. And in some way I probably was. But for some reason, the emotion I remember most was just pure shock that I was capable of producing such an impressive bodily projectile. Was I proud? Surely not. But maybe? A few years later we moved to Tucson where my sinus issues dried up like the desert, and I’ve rarely had problems since. Maybe we should hang out now, Kate? If I can offer any consolation though, I did in fact pick Kate to be on my fantasy land gymnastics team that would win gold at the summer games. Just you, me and Dominique Dawes.