The Basement

I took a stroll down memory lane earlier this week. And it was good.

I viewed in my head, heard the sounds, felt the sting, tasted the blood, and felt my abdomen tighten as we all broke out laughing at each other. I felt the cool tile on my summer-hot bare feet. Then I duck . . . almost hit but not quite. I hear the whiz by my ear. There’s a lot of scrambling as we tried to hide behind the couch, or boxes, or chairs, or the cupboards.

What’s going on? A war. A battle. Won one day; lost the next. It was serious business to us. It was play to any adult looking on – but they would walk, even run, up the stairs and out of the crossfire. We continued to fight on. The sides changed, randomly, from battle to battle, from day to day. We were relatively safe, unable to harm anything or inflict great bodily harm – the black eyes, round bruises, skinned knees aside.

The ball war. There were tennis balls, racquetballs, Nerf balls, and super balls (these hurt the most). Sometimes the combatants were just my sister and brothers, but sometimes a neighborhood friend would join us. The basement was practically kid-proof – okay, almost kid-proof – we did break an overhead fluorescent light fixture. It was a good place to hang out on hot summer days.

There was no air conditioning in our house, but the basement was always a steady, cool, comfortable temperature. It was a great place to read a book, watch TV, or play with Lego’s and Johnny West action figures. We celebrated birthdays there with friends (children’s parties) and with family (including aunts, uncles, and cousins). We had our regular Sunday family movie nights watching The Wonderful World of Disney, eating popcorn and drinking apple cider. It’s where my mom and dad told us that we were going to have a baby – my youngest sister was seven-years old. I was 11.

Visiting my childhood home brings back all kinds of memories. Lately the memories have been good ones. They are precious memories to hold onto when I start to think about the confusing things. Ball wars to baby announcements; the basement is one of my favorite places.