Finding big old, expensive treasure. Except, it was to happen when I was ten, in my best friend Julia’s backyard, while setting up a clubhouse. I wasn’t much for diamond hunting in Africa back then. And we weren’t dense enough (Julia was actually gifted no less) to think we’d find a shipwreck on inland Pittsburgh, even if there was a kickass creek nearby. But treasure? Yes, we were sure there was gold and jewels and great stuff just waiting for us to relieve it of its dark, dusty hole under a rock.
I’m telling you, as sure as my silky, 1970’s, shorts that did not take to ironing without a few holes were short and obnoxiously purple, Julia and I were convinced there was treasure awaiting us if we only looked long enough and in the right woodsy spot.
Back in the days when living in suburbia meant you walked out your door at 9 am and returned for dinner nine hours later, Julia and I would spend our summer doing the following:
1. Walked down giant hill to Julia’s where there was less parental control.
2. Jump on trampoline with hordes of other kids, including older, very cute boy who I was in love with and later broke my finger by landing on it when his jump took an errant turn in mid-air.
3. Go creek walking (the fat, deep creek ran right behind Julia’s house, just beyond the tree-shrouded trampoline), looking for crawfish and the hint of gold that was begging to be mined.
4. Eat breakfast bars for lunch.
5. Into the woods to find that treasure as the creek walk wet our whistles for the treasure trove possibilities.
6. Spyed on the boys who set up camp on what was clearly the spot (giant rock) where our treasure was buried.
7. Tricked boys into leaving our spot by saying we saw Franco Harris drive down Autumwood a few minutes past.
8. Lay around the spot on the giant rock over looking another part of the creek, discussing all the ways boys are easily tricked.
9. Dig a bit, find nothing, boys return to chase us for fibbing (Chasing us is punishment? Please we were begging to be chased) back to trampoline. Impress boys with my gymnastic flips twists and spins.
10. Trudge up the hill in the blazing hot sun, returning home for a dinner of stew (I’ll refrain from giving my commentary on ew ew stew).
11. Play run-down in yard with sibs until dark and called to bathe by parents.
So, does one have to travel the world to find her treasure?
2 thoughts on “This was supposed to happen to me…”
I really enjoyed this post. It reminded me of summers growing up. I hope my daughter can have adventures like we had.
Strugglingwriter, I agree, I hope my kids find that sort of adventure and aimless fun all summer. I guess the smarter thing to hope for is that I’ll let them. With all the schedules and events and activities these days, I really have to carve out time for this kind of thing. Time will tell, I suppose.