Great Great Falls

Last weekend, my brother and I visited our childhood home in Great Falls, Virginia. 

Returning to Great Falls, I was struck by how amazing my childhood was and shocked by how much I had forgotten. We did everything; we parked at the library, where the old bug guy taught us about beetles and fat caterpillars, where the visual for that one dumb blonde joke takes place in my head:

A dumb blonde walks into a library with headphones in, the librarian says, "No music in the library!" and takes her headphones out for her ears. The dumb blonde immediately drops to the ground, unconscious. Moments later, another blonde walks in with the same headphones. When the librarian takes them off of her, she drops dead!! This happens four times before the librarian says, "What are they listening to? How is this happening?" she gives it a listen and just hears, "Breathe in.... breathe out.... breathe in..... breathe out." Those dumb blondes can't even breathe on their own, they're just that dumb. 

We took the wooded cut-through to the park. It was Art Fest at the old school house where Mimi and I would go to play teacher. Art Fest where, who knows how many tens of years ago, my parents bought two giant paintings that then hung in my mother's office for years. We saw lizards and talked cicada exoskeletons, a total nightmare climbing a tree and turning the branch to see your face right in front of a ghost cicada. Horrifying. We got lunch from Safeway like we did as kids, like we did when we ran away that one time. We ate our boxed sushi, tamarinds and goldfish at a picnic table at the playground on the hill above the field where my baby soccer team, "Quick Silver" (someones dad picked the name, we wanted to be the Purple Manatees) practiced. We swung on the swings where I went so high I might have been able to do a full 360 flip around, it's easier to pump with grown up legs, no need to be pushed by my dad. Hearing kids on that spinning roundabout thing saying, "I'm gonna push us really hard and then jump on!!!" Taking another secret path from the field through the woods that we made for our walk home from the bus stop at the playground parking lot. 

The walk down Innsbruck Avenue felt so much longer than it really was, one downhill strip felt like miles for my little kid legs. The road was lush-lined, full of trees and memories of after-school backpack sibling conversations. Passing the secret entrance to our neighbor's zip line, we snuck in without ever even knowing them. Eventually, we met them once, had a scathing "your mom" off, and then proceeded to make up through a game of cops and robbers and a scream down their waterslide. They were rich rich, rich enough to have a full-on pull this book down from the bookshelf and watch as the whole wall turns to reveal a secret room rich. We twisted around blind curves to find the gazebo at the end of the road that marked the entrance to "Jurassic Park" another creek where our barefoot imaginations ran wild and ankles were threatened by snakes. I don't think my brother remembered how exclusive Jurassic Park really was, it was more for the "older kids" so I only went a few times, the zip line was more my speed I suppose. 

We got to our house and throught we should ring the bell and see if we can go in, the worst they could say is no. We really lucked out when the door was answered by the son of the owners, who claimed to be house-sitting. This twenty seven year old was fully living with his parents. No way his room was that messy and not actively being lived in. He gave us a full indoor and outdoor tour. Our family knew the family that we sold the house to so it was never on the market and as far as my baby brain recalls, it was a seamless transition. We were all in school together, I think Emma and Saunders kind of knew their boys. It made for a sense of comfort and safety, we weren't killers coming to ransack his home. Entering that house was a minefield,,, which I just looked up... that may not be an actual word... entering that house... it was madness. Nostalgia washed over me, I nearly drowned in it. Just by the tiniest crack of the frontdoor the smell alone was enough to knock me out. Home.

The house felt smaller now that I was taller, but the stair runner remained the same. I wish I could take my shoes off one more time just to slip on socks down those stairs, give me a rug burn that I can take home with me. A scab I'd pick until it scarred so it'd be there forever. So I'd be there forever. Bathrooms and kitchen appliances had been updated, our hot pink fireplace painted white. The epic cilarium was pruned, plants potted and a fish tank added, it's okay though, they glistened enough to be forgiven. As a kid being tucked in at night my mom would say, "see you in dream land!" and I'd say, "let's meet at the fish tank." in another life, it was right there. We haven't spoken in over a year now, maybe it's time to find that fishtank and finally sort things out.

Memories and moments flashed before my eyes in each new room we entered. This is where I tried on lipstick for the first time, remember trying to catch fish here with cheese cubes on a stick? I still can't believe we used to hollow out these cabinets so we could stash the gushers we stole from Safeway here. This is the bathroom I ran to and cried in when I heard the news about the move. I stared in the mirror and sobbed to myself, afraid to show anyone how I was really feeling, feeling alone at such a young age. Our tour guide told me that stuffed behind the mirrors in my old room were love letters covered in lipstick kisses that I had written to myself. Stuffed for safe keeping, for later. For them?

We moved when I was nine; it's been 19 years, but being there, it felt like no time had passed. I wanted to dive into that dark blue pool, I wanted to dig up the dog grave for Humphry over the creeks edge buried by the previous owners. He haunted us but never let us drown. I hope he was a good dog. There was wisteria, and there were weirdo statues we put there now covered in moss. We were mischievous kids; my brother and I would break into, I'm not joking, break into our next-door neighbor's house and play with their toys, steal their toys, choke on their sugar cereal that we weren't allowed to have, I crashed their golf cart and walked away. Seven-year-olds shouldn't drive. I remembered getting locked out on the balcony attached to my room. Merril and I came to the conclusion that we would have to jump off in order to survive. We might break our legs, but it had to be done. Everything felt diar, everything felt like we'd never age past age ten. My once yellow walls are now white with a connecting walk-in closet I would kill to have today. The closet where I cried while being reprimanded over an unwalkable clothes-covered floor. If I had that closet today, you still wouldn't be able to see the floor. My messy habits haven't changed or even faded in the slightest. 

Being home awoke a new perspective in me, I learned so much living here, I learned how to fend for myself in nature if I ever got caught in a rainstorm, even though running into a storm was always voluntary, I knew where to hide. I was free to decorate my room how I wanted, I was free to wear what I wanted, I was free! I grew up here, and so did everyone else. My parents, my siblings, Mimi when she visited, Mrs. Powers our bus driver, the Dellasolas down the road, that old guy who hosted a screening of Peter Pan and served DIY ice cream sundaes for the whole neighborhood. We were all experiencing life for the first time, maybe we all deserve a little bit of grace. My childhood had hiccups, as they all do, but it was nothing short of incredible.

That night, Saunders and I got dinner at The Old Brogue, the only childhood gem still standing. Now legally sipping some white wine, it was easy to picture my parents here discussing us kids, our extracurriculars, and all of our madness over a shared Shepherd's pie in the booth we always sat in. It makes me want a do-over.

We rounded out the visit at Great Falls park where families picniced, grilled their sunday dinners and threw frisbees, dogs off leash, I picked weeds and pressed them into my sketchbook, I watercolored the falls and fell victim to a waterfall selfie. There was time I was full of rage, I would have jumped, allowed myself to be pummeled by the current. Now I want to float, hit rapids with a smile on my face in some blowup boat surrounded by friends and family. This weekend rebirthed me, spring sprung and got me ready to bloom again. 

Xo, O