What I want on my birthday (swunked from sartorias - never let a good idea go to waste)

[fpb]

So, tomorrow I turn 46.

Here is my wish, for anyone dropping by, who has a few extra seconds: you share with me some special memory. This was sartorias' suggestion, which I cannot improve upon: I know how busy people are. It doesn't have to be long. One good thing about having a brain wired for image is that the briefest reference to, say, "The day i saw

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[cruft]

One time my younger sister and I lit a fire on a little hill out on our family's pasture land. We played Injuns out there all the time, so it was all in a day's work. Seeing the smoke, our grandfather waded at full speed across a flooded creek to find and subdue the fire. I don't recall our hides getting tanned, so we must have escaped somehow.

[fpb]

I don't know why that should be funny, but it is. Thank you.

[cruft]

Happy birthday!

[curia_regis]

The first time I read Xenocide by Orson Scott Card. He manages to write about religion and ethics in a way that fascinates me. It just felt like I was in his world and I loved it.

[curia_regis]

Oh and happy birthday for tomorrow! (This is totally the last time 'm saying it.)

[fpb]

Say it as often as you like - I won't get offended. 8-)

[headnoises]

When I was three, my grandfather use to play Indians with me when the dishwasher was running. (Grandma had to wheel it out and across the kitchen to hook it up to the sink, so there was a lovely cave just perfect for this.)

[fpb]

Awww, how cute. Thank you.

[un_crayon_rouge]

My best memory, and the one I recall the most often when things are dreary and nothing makes much sense, is being 10 or 11 years old, sprawled on my bed in my room on a sunny afternoon, reading. Homework done, chores finished, just silence and me and a book and countless adventures. Life was good then.

Happy birthday!

[fpb]

That is a mood one does sometimes recapture when a good book or comic is at hand and it is late afternoon and NO crap coming down. Thank you.

[sartorias]

I shared this with Susanwrites, but I'm sharing it with you. I've always had insomnia (ahem! Look at mt timestamp_), where I'd waken in the middle of the night and lie there thinking, then fall asleep again. This one time I was about eight, and for the first time, I thought about learning. As I stared up at the white part of the ceiling with the fake plaster festoons and the pink walls, dimly lit by reflection from the street lamp in front of the neighbor's, I saw myself crouched down inside a clay cave. Every new thing I learned was like a gouge with my fingernails in the wall of the cave. The side walls were for learning how to do things. But above me was learning about the world, the universe, and beyond. I thought, if I just gouge out enough clay--learn enough things--some day I will break through to the sky, and beyond the sky, because I will know everything and be wise.

Well, I was eight. *wry grin*

[fpb]

That's quite young to be getting Platonic images. Thank you.