Posted in ML Auto Bio, Writing 101-Blogging University

Church Playground Memories

Church Playground Memories

by: Ronovan

 After I came home from the hospital even I knew something was missing, but I didn’t know what. I just felt incomplete somehow. For a person suffering from amnesia that probably doesn’t sound unusual, but this was something that I just knew was missing, I could feel it.

But I only had the feeling when I went to the doctor’s office, or some type of testing. My clothes were laid out for me. I had my wallet, keys (although not allowed to drive), a 10 dollar bill, and a pen. Apparently I always carry a pen.

My belt was in place, all of my clothing was the way it should be. It really bothered me though. I put it down as possibly my not driving. Maybe I just wanted to be the driver since I always drove everywhere. Perhaps I just was not accustomed to being on the passenger side of the car looking around.

Then one day it hit me. There was a burning in my pocket. I noticed each time I left the house, not actually my own house, that my right pants pocket felt lighter than it should. There was a spot that didn’t feel right. Even looking down at my pocket when seated there was something odd about how it appeared.

A flash of yellow came to me. And that made me think of the word, ‘pecan’. I wasn’t able to speak yet but I quickly wrote it down and shoved it toward the driver. She looked at it.

“Do I have a pecan?”

“Yes,” she said.

I held my hands out and shrugged.

“I don’t know where it is,” she said.

I quickly scribbled down my flash.

“Yellow toy box.”

“Yes. I know what you mean, beside your chair.”

A few days later it arrived.

I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a pecan before. They are oblong and pointy on the ends, but not this one. This one glows and looks like polished wood. When the light hits it there is character and grooves you don’t see in a normal pecan shell.

When I touched it for the first time again, the smoothness of the shell was comforting and familiar. I instantly held it to my ear and shook it. I could hear the rattling inside.

My eyes closed and I ran my finger tips around the shell slowly and could feel the ridges that you normally didn’t realize were there. Maybe they normally weren’t. Then I slipped it into my pocket and the weight was right. My balance was right. Just a few ounces but it was right. When I sat down, the sight was right.

My mind tingled with it with me again.

“For you, Daddy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I found it for you.”

Of course the smile crossed my face and a big hug was given. “Then it goes right here and never leaves,” I said. I slipped it into my pocket. The smile crossed his face.

A pecan as a prized possession may sound a bit odd to some, but six years earlier my little son had walked up to me with a smile from the church playground and given it to me. To him it may have been just a find that day.

The grey shell had turned into polished brown like the finest piece of furniture. But this hadn’t been done by a machine. This had been done by years of being in my hands through the day, and living inside my pocket forever being polished.

My Pecan - Copy

Now that I had it back I was more at ease. Every night he comes to me and asks “Do you have your thing?” “Yeah.” “Okay.” He now knows how special it is to me. He knows I remembered it. He knows I know him. He knows I don’t want to lose it.

Some prized possessions may have monetary value to them, even family heirlooms, but for me, a moment of innocence that can never be captured again . . . that’s my prized possession. The pecan is a reminder of it, but the real possession is the memory of it. That’s what I have, that memory. Memories of your children can bring you back to life. That’s what happened to me.

Maybe you have a memory. Perhaps riding along with your child in your lap in a golf cart, or smiling up at you with such love in their eyes at an ice cream parlor, or giggling when you tickle them. Those are prized possessions.

Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites©.wordpress.com-June 27, 2014.

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Author:

Ronovan Hester is an author, with a debut historical adventure novel Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling now on available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle. "5.0 out of 5 stars: Now, I want to warn you… this is not your typical pirate tale! It’s BETTER!" "5.0 out of 5 stars: Totally unpredictable and a real gem of a discovery - Highly Recommended" "5.0 out of 5 stars: An action packed journey to piracy and revenge – all in the name of the crown, queen and county – set in 1705." He shares his life of problems and triumphs through his blog RonovanWrites.WordPress.com. His love of writing, authors and community through his online world has led to a growing Weekly Haiku Challenge, Weekly Fiction Prompt Challenge, and the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as LitWorldInterviews.com.

22 thoughts on “Church Playground Memories

  1. I keep a small, perfectly round rock in the cup holder of my car. I found it while on a walk with my mom one day. My foot accidentally kicked it and I picked it up. I’d never seen such a round rock before. My mom said it looked like an itty bitty soccer ball. We laughed and tossed it back on the ground, and proceeded to take turns kicking it the rest of the way. At the end of our walk, my mom picked it up to take a closer look at it. Well, she brought it in the car, and somehow it ended up in my cup holder, and it’s now been there for years. I can’t bring myself to get rid of it. It reminds me of that day and my mom and the all the love and laughter we’ve always shared.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for sharing that. Doesn’t take much does it? I have a piece of scotch tape on my laptop. Three years ago a student gave it to me. She was a special young lady, a really good girl. She said never get rid of it. When I opened my laptop for the first time after the hospital I saw it and there was that memory. Some may say it’s silly but little things bring back big things all this time later.
      As I was taking the picture of the pecan a few minutes ago, my son was watching me. After I finished he had me put away so I wouldn’t lose it. He watched me until it was safe again.

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      1. It’s so true. I always tell people, “If my house ever burned down there are three things I’d want saved: My laptop (has most of my photos on it), my flash drive (all my stories), and a cookie jar filled with the most random, but most sentimental things (ex: a balled up piece of athletic tape my brother threw at me after one of his baseball games, or a ziplock of sand from my first trip to the beach). You just can’t replace sentimental things that stir memories.

        Keep that pecan safe!

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Such a touching story. I also tend to value things based on sentimental rather than monetary value. Some trinkets are more valuable than jewels. Love your writing! 🙂

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  3. Really enjoyed this, brings back a lot of memories of when my kids were younger and the simpler things in life, like watching garbage trucks with my son. It was just our thing…

    Thank you!

    Like

  4. Wow, so powerful. This brings a tear to my eye… and a reminder to never take anything for granted. For your child to know he is with you at all times and that he is loved… beautiful. I don’t have the words to express how this post touched me… Thank you.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Wow… I’m currently speechless, but have a million things I want to say racing through my mind at the same time. The way you write is simply beautiful, but more so are the topics you pick to share with us. Each day we get to learn a little bit more about you (and others who slowly reveal themselves through their blogs). And each time you write a piece like this, it takes us all back to that special time and place. I have a leaf, in the shape of a heart, scotch taped to index card from my son. He doesn’t remember giving it to me, but he was only 3 at the time. It was a simple “Here… for you.” kind of moment. Casual for him, glorious for me. A memory that I obviously hadn’t forgotten about, but had stored away somewhere deep in my head, in the special memories with Ryan compartment. This post brought that compartment front and center. Today we talked about all the things he said funny as a baby (ie: garbage man was barshish man; cereal was seeseer) I changed the words to the song “How much is that doggie in the window” and specialized it for him. We now sing that song quite often, as silly as it is. He was only weeks old when I came up with it.

    I’m so touched by every blog you post, but this one especially. Thank you for sharing it. Thank you for sharing something so sacred, a treasure between father and son, a reminder to us all. You say you were undecided… I’m so glad that you chose this of al the things you could have written about. You have no idea how your writing effects those of us readers.
    Thank you.

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  6. Reblogged this on Flippyzipflop and commented:
    It’s amazing how one person’s memory can stir up so much of our own. This man amazes me with his voice and his topics. I look at him like my blogging mentor. If only… one day I could write so powerfully. Thanks again for stirring up those long forgotten memories. It made our day!!

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    1. Thank you! It’s a story I hadn’t planned to share. But I couldn’t think of another prized possession I had. The memory was the prize, the pecan led me to it.

      Like

  7. Nicely done. I have many small treasures from my kids. I also have a tendency to keep kind words; emails, cards, notes, etc. I love them!

    Like

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