Do you ever think back to your younger life, and marvel over some of the things you did? Things that could have gone totally wrong?
Ahhh, the innocence of childhood. I can think of way too many. And when I do, I offer up a fervent prayer of thanks for still being here.
I remember riding bareback double behind Carolyn, an older girl in our neighborhood, when I was about six. We’d ride in shorts and bare feet—no helmets in those days. Instead of a bridle, she would use a leather string with a loop in her mare’s mouth.
Off we’d go with me clinging to her waist, loping merrily down the dirt roads nearby, or off into the woods. If there was an interesting object to jump, we did—including the long galvanized bar (set in cement) of a big teeter-totter, with no care in the world. Yikes. I think there was even a picnic table in the mix…
At seven, I had my first horse, an elderly Welsh mare with the patience of Job. And I’d be off even more, with Carolyn and other girls close by who had backyard horses.
We’d ride in what we called The Great Woods (an abandoned and overgrown sand pit) pretending we were cowboys or Civil War soldiers. Or we’d follow the railroad right-of-way to reach distant places to ride, or the lake where we could swim the horses. The only rule was to get home for supper.
I took some foolhardy, thoughtless risks when I was in elementary school. I’m sure I gave a certain train engineer nightmares for the rest of his life when I raced him for an intersection. I can still his horn blaring.
I shudder to think what could have happened to any one of us, in the blink of an eye, during those carefree, vagabond days…when folks weren’t thinking so much about stranger danger, and our parents had no idea where we were. Where were my parents, you might ask? I think they were trusting. Maybe a bit too much…yet I wouldn’t give up a minute of those carefree days.
But—with that adventurous start—I grew up to be a super cautious adult. And with my own kids and their horses, I knew about the potential dangers, so I was super cautious with them as well!
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Do you have memories of any funny or wild adventures while growing up that you would like to share? I would love to hear them!
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Here are some of the replies to “What is a favorite Easter memory?” from last time!
From Penny:
Oh gosh, when the guys were young sprouts, we spent one Easter with Uncle John and Auntie Ingrid at their property in the mountains. Uncle John had a lawn tractor and a cart. One of my favorite pictures is of my three stair step sons lined up in that cart with Uncle John driving the “tractor”. The photo captures him turned around to look at his precious cargo with a huge grin on his face! Earlier this month, Uncle John passed away very unexpectedly. I take comfort knowing he and Auntie Ingrid are reunited in Heaven as she left this world about five years ago. Thanks for bringing that memory to mind as it made ME smile. Tears, but still smiles.
From Lauraine:
Here’s a funny one. When I was in High School, the boy next door left me an easter basket– and he was 10 years younger than me!
From Esther:
The year my father bought six painted chicks for my younger siblings as he missed growing up on a farm. Turned out all six were roosters. What a way to learn how they learn to crow. Many meals later…
He never bought chickies again.
From Vickie:
I’m looking forward to seeing all of my grandchildren who live in three different states. And the summer kicks off early for me because I have four (I can’t believe it myself!) grandchildren graduating in May, three from college and one from high school. We have an engineer, a computer scientist and a psychologist and I am thrilled to see what God will do in their lives next
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Best wishes to you for a wonderful spring, and many hours of good reading!
Roxanne Rustand
USA Today bestselling, award-winning author of over forty books,
with over 29 million books sold
Have you ever done something that ought to be in a book?
Have you ever made plans, then found out that they turned out far better than you’d expected?
After those rains, the temperature would cool off for lovely afternoons, then for balmy evenings back on that porch swing, lulling the baby to sleep and talking some more. 
In my new clean, small-town romantic suspense, DANGEROUS SECRETS, are second chances ever possible when one thinks everything has been lost?