I had a dream a couple of nights ago that left me feeling really homesick. Those who know me, know that I moved to a different state about a year ago, so it may be that the anniversary of the move or maybe that my dream just triggered something inside me. I dreamed about the mother of one of my closest friends from my younger years. I don’t remember the whole dream, but do remember her giving me a really long hug and a kiss on the cheek. I could feel her love pouring through me.

When I woke, I felt a pull toward home. Although, the things that I am longing for are no longer there. Even if I did make the trip, it would be a different place and a different world. What I think I am missing, are glimpses of the past. Of happier times. Of being carefree. Of ordinary moments.

My daughter has an interesting analogy about life. (Her analogy is a little more philosophical and deep, but I’m just summing up.) Anyway, she says life is like a cake. You are born, that being the beginnings of the cake and something special. During your lifetime you have various milestones that you want to achieve. Going to school and college, finding a job, getting married, having a family and then you move on to the next journey called death. All these milestones are the frosting on the cake. (Well, except maybe the death part, depending on whether you’re coming or going.) The daily things, the ordinary and fun things that happen to you in between all these milestones are the sprinkles that make life complete. 

Our lives are flavored with sprinkles from friends, family, children, grandchildren and many other acquaintances who weave in and out of our lives. Everyone we encounter on our journey makes it more special and it brings love and light into our lives. (Or as my husband noted, can take a bite out of you and create a learning and growing experience.)

I miss the sprinkles. 

I miss my friend who could laugh with me about anything and everything. We were dubbed the giggle twins when we were together. We just could not help ourselves. We laughed at everything!

Then there’s Mrs. H, our neighbor from down the highway who stopped by every once in a while just to shoot the breeze. She always reminded me of Aunt Bea on the Andy Griffith show. She had the same shape. She always came over wearing a dress and no bra. That always gave Mom and I a chuckle. (Well, Mom was more appalled but I was quite amused.)

There was the day that Dad accidentally ran over our neighbor Pearl’s chicken with his tractor. I can still see her standing in the middle of the road, chicken legs in hand, shaking her arm with the dead chicken flopping around as she was screaming at my Dad, “You killed my chicken!!!”

Oh, and there was nothing better than bikes with banana seats and long handlebars. Two or three of us could get on one of those suckers with two on the seat and one on the handle bars. I wouldn’t recommend it now. It was dangerous but we didn’t care because it was fun! At least until the day that a car drove by, honked at us and scared us so badly that we took a big tumble. We had road rash and bruises. I had a bruise the size of a large cantaloupe on my leg for weeks. My friend’s leg was bleeding as we both limped home to lick our wounds.

If you really want some quiet meditation, you don’t need a yoga mat to do it. All you need is a hot sunny day, a small stick and a back road that is paved. There are little patches of tar that get hot and it creates bubbles. You can sit in the sun for hours popping those bubbles. If you want to take it to the next level, do it with your friend down the street. It’s pure entertainment and you can find your nirvana in this quiet space.

Water park? Who needs one. We had our own just down the dirt road that ran alongside the canal. There were a couple of spots in the canal that were too sloped for the water to go down without eroding away the ditch bank, so the irrigation company cemented in the waterway on the slopes. This created a couple of great water slide venues. One spot had a really long one and the other was a series of three different ones close together. The two at the bottom were perfect slides. We didn’t even need anything to sit on when we slid down. We just did it in our cut offs. There was enough water force that it swooped us down. Then we got out and did it again. It created hours of fun and cheap entertainment. My brother and his friends were the only ones brave enough to go down the really long one up the road. I had fun just watching them, though. They would block off the water at the top with a board, then let it loose to create a huge deluge of water to slide down on. We spent hours during the summer in our own water park with the neighbor kids from across the highway. (Again, I wouldn’t recommend this, it’s dangerous to swim in canals and people have died.)

We didn’t have television and internet like kids have now. We only had one TV, black and white, with an antenna, three channels that turned off at midnight and no remote. We had to get up off the couch to change the channel. I loved to watch Saturday morning cartoons until I got called to go outside and help with whatever chores there were.

Often, in order to play, we had to make do with what was around outside in order to entertain ourselves. I sat under our willow tree many a day creating dirt roads with my sister’s old metal roller skate. (Yes, the kind that you hook onto your own shoe and tighten it down with a key.) I used sticks, rocks and water to create mud in order to make my little village with its roads. It was a work of art!

When my friend from down the road came over one day, we found the biggest patch of tall weeds we could find and created our own “fort.” It was like the jungle on Gilligan’s Island and it was our secret special place that we could go to and talk about life and all its problems. We solved many a world issue in that fort together.

I actually loved weeding the garden in the early mornings. Not that I loved the weeding part, because I’m sure I gave my Mom a lot of grief about having to go out to work. It created an oasis for me, though. I listened as the morning breeze whispered across my brow. Invariably, I could hear the sound of mourning doves cooing, the sound of the train whistle far away and cars whizzing by on the highway in front of the house. It was a time of calm and peace.

I miss baseball on a Sunday afternoon. Our family loved to play and there was a baseball diamond down the road a couple of miles at the old Apple Valley school. We would gather our balls, mitts, bat and then gather as many neighbor kids as we could find along the way as we walked down to the school. We played for hours until it was time to go home. Then we walked back home exhausted and exhilarated. Most of the time we made it through unscathed and without injury.

Oh, and I can’t forget when my brothers and sisters and I played Olly Olly Oxen Free. We would throw a baseball over the roof yelling “Olly Olly Oxen Free” for someone on the other side to catch the ball. Once caught they would run around the house to catch the ones on the other side and you’d better run fast!

We also played Duck, Duck Goose in the winter snow in our front yard. We made trails in the snow so it was easier to run. Although, running in the snow from someone is especially tricky and slippery even with a trail.

Speaking of front yard, we lived on a highway, so there were always cars and trucks going by. We figured out that if we stood out by the highway and gave the “honk” signal, that the trucks would honk at us. Hours of laughter and entertainment there, folks.

In High School, my cousin and I used to have study hall together. Big mistake. We were always laughing it up and goofing off about one thing or another. I know the teacher didn’t appreciate it, but it is one of my fondest memories of him. He was one of the few cousins I had that was close to my age, so for me it was super special to have someone in the family other than my siblings to goof off with. I think he’s the one who taught me how to play paper football across the table.

I remember when my parents needed a new well and my uncle was the one they called. He was a well digger by trade and brought his rig over. It was amazing to me as I listened to the loud clang of the drill go into the earth over and over and over, inching deeper and deeper and deeper into the soil that this would eventually produce water. It took days and weeks until finally they struck water and it was a glorious day!

Speaking of my uncle…Every year our town held a celebration to celebrate the days when Fort Boise came to be. I went every year to this event. It was one of those things that I had to beg my parents to let me go. If I went, that meant being away from the farm for a day and one less person to help with chores. My friends were there, though, and I so I just had to be there too. I didn’t really realize how important it was at the time, but looking back, it was a bonding experience with my uncle. He always went to watch the parade and invariably, I would sit and watch it with him. Granted, the parade wasn’t a huge Rose Bowl event, but it was fun to watch people we knew going down the street on their floats, horses or in their souped-up cars. It was a small town, what can I say? We longed for entertainment. I do miss those moments with my uncle, though. That was something very special.

Yes, sprinkles are ordinary moments that are just a little extra-ordinary. We don’t notice them until they are gone. They give us something to smile about when we are older. They give us stories to tell our grandchildren and we get to embellish as much as we want because they are ours to tell.

I suppose I am homesick for my sprinkles. The good news is, we can create more sprinkles every day just by noticing the little things. Simple little life moments can become precious memories that we hold in our hearts forever. So, enjoy your sprinkles and, if you dare, add a little whipped cream with a cherry on top!