The Ball

We want to know what, from your childhood, do you still know by heart?

Is it a story? A jump-roping song? The number of rungs on the ladder to your treehouse? How much money you had to save to buy something you really wanted?

There are times in my life where I look back at my childhood and try to remember things. Games, specific events, holidays, and that sort of things but I usually end up drawing a blank.

I have a block on most of my memories and I’m not sure why. I think that it stems from my parents divorce… there was a lot of fighting and arguing when I was younger. But that is not what this post is about.

A memory. One that a I hold near and dear to my heart. A memory that I do remember vividly. One that I randomly play over and over in my head.

Three. I was almost three years old and we were living in town in a house that my parents were renting and to me it was huge. The house had large rooms with big windows that let in the light from outside. It was an old house too, where the living room was in the front, dining in the middle, and then the kitchen towards the back of the house.

It was sunny out, but it must have been cold since we were playing inside that day. My dad was at work and it was just my mom and I at home. I was still an only child and never had to share my toys or my time with my mom. Little did I know that would change.

The Ball


The ball was blue I think. We sat on the hardwood floor facing one another with our legs spread out as we rolled the ball back and forth to one another. Occasionally it would bounce outside of the wall that our legs made.


Giggles. Smiles. Pure fun. That is what I remember.

Special time spent with my mom.

Time where I had her undivided attention.

A moment in time that has always stuck with me.

A memory of love.