A Narrative on the Best Moments of My Childhood
As we grow older we olten reminisce of our childhood. Certain things tend to stick out in our minds more vwidly than others do and they can be anything from a complex thing such as life-changing experiences to something as simple as making mud pies. When I think back, I can remember all the toys of my childhood. I remember running through the sprinkler. With my dog in the summertime jumping on the trampoline. With my friends in the fall and sledding down hills. With my family in the wintertime. But, the most Vivid memory I have of my childhood is undeniably the finest and most exciting one of all making mud pies in the spring. Making mud pies is undoubtedly something that all children and adults can relate to and they all know that it is indubitably one of the best ways to make friends. It just so happens to be the way that I met my best friend Fia and it is the way we spent most of our time together.
My loyal companion lived across the street from me so every day. It was warm enough. as soon as we woke up we would stand on the curbs in front of our houses. Facing each other. We would then yell across the street listing the items that were needed for that day’s adventure. Both of us, would quickly retreat to our houses collect all the items required and rush back outside to get started, Each new day consisted of a different game. whether it was playing house. Ghost Writer, ‘adventures’, or Just a simple game of hide and go seek, but somehow, no matter which game we chose to play, we always seemed to include making mud pies. To create these wonderful pastries, we would collect dirt from underneath our doormats or from digging holes in our yards.
Instead of getting our water from the tap or of using the dishes from our kitchen cupboards. We would avoid making our mothers suspicious by taking water from our dogs’ dishes, from puddles outside and by gathering pots and pans from our toy kitchen sets. We would find long thin sticks that worked perfectly for mixing and stirring. Then, we would retreat to the cool shade under my apple tree provided by its green leafy canopy. We would sit there and slosh our concoction together, spilling the murky brown water on our sticky fingers, holding the bowls. With all our might and stirring as fast as our six-year-old arms would allow us. On my driveway, there was an ash fault patch darker than the rest. It was big enough to lay out at least a dozen pies and it was directly under the sun so they would cook more quickly and efficiently than on the sidewalk.
Once we had our mud ready, we would stand up with our muddy pink shorts and t-shirts, our matching sparkly Jelly sandals, with our hair falling out of our scrunchies. We would then quickly make pour Ways over to the ‘oven’ where we would carefully mold our muddy mud patties. While we let them cook, We would scavenge our yards in search of things to add to our pies. We would use our treat buckets from the previous Halloween as our baskets. In them, we would collect little crumbling flowers from my friends’ Birch tree that. We made belief was our corn, berries from the bushes that were our ‘fruit’ as well as leaves, twigs, spices along With other simple garnishes. We would then Walk back to our oven. With our Halloween buckets filled to the brim and carefully decorate our pies by pressing leaves into the mom mud. With our fingers and delicately sprinkling them With our special toppings. To this day I still remember taking my very first bite of our freshly baked pies.
I can recall carefully scooping up the very best pie I could find, and slowly raising it to my mouth. I remember the anxious and expectant eyes of my best friend sitting across from me, staring at me as I began to slowly press my teeth into its moistness. I remember being slightly surprised when my tongue touched the slimy mud. dirt and grass and when I felt the grittiness of sand between my teeth instead of the doughy sweetness I had anticipated. It was not what I had expected. But after all of our hard work making these pies. We had to at least pretend to like them, especially in front of our moms and dads. Although the pies were not particularly tasty, it was the fact that We had made them.
With our own two hands, they were our own creations which made them the most satisfying desserts in the world. Thus began our ritual ‘taste testing‘ of our wonderfully, muddy mud pies. It was a wonderful game: a game that we continued to play throughout our childhood and even early on into our pre-teen stages. It was our special game that we could play anywhere and anytime. With only two simple ingredients dirt and water. It is quite wondrous as to how mixing two such simple things together could cause such splendid games and enjoyment as well as create such intricate and residing memories. Mud has become one of my most treasured memories from my childhood and one that I will remember always.
