Nettle Tree Road

Nettle: to irritate, annoy, or provoke.
2.
to sting as a nettle does.

The first home I lived in was on a street called “Nettle Tree Road” and I just had to laugh at that last night when I started thinking about that house because that name… kind of sums it up.

The Nettle Tree Road house for me was where it all began. I was young when we moved there maybe 2 years old, but it was this house where I became a princess, and an emotional pauper.

The fun memories of this house include me picking up the white gravel rocks in our driveway while my dad did yard work. I loved those rocks and would fill my purse with them because they had “sparkalies” in them which looked like diamonds to a three year old’s eyes.

One of my favorite memories from that place was one day in the backyard as I was playing a balloon floated over the fence and landed and attached was a package of graham crackers with a note from Bozo the clown who was at that time was equivalent to Edward Cullen to my three year old mind… I was just moon over Miami for that clown and to get graham crackers from him made my century! I am certain now that it had to be my father doing that as a treat… and that sweetens the deal for me but to this day it is on the top five of memories when it comes to my childhood.

I was really young when my father began the affair with my half sister Jackie… and it had gone on for some time but this house was where it all came to a head.

There were a lot of changes that took place because of that…the whole structure of my family shifted when the Jackie and Dad situation was exposed. Because of the level of betrayal and dysfunction from that affair the fighting that took place was epic. The weird thing I am remembering was that when the fights took place I never retreated into my room… I would hide under the dining room table so I could listen and hear it all. I would sit there for hours listening to it and I don’t know why I chose to listen… I can’t seem to figure that out, except that maybe I was just trying to figure it out and make sense of it all and so listening was the only way to do that because my brothers of course would not tell me anything.

I have been thinking a lot about that little girl sitting under that table the past few days… she was so little and innocent and way to be young to be thrust into all of this garbage and I guess I wish I could go back and drag her out from under that table and take her for a bike ride and get her out of that situation while the fighting went on. I think I would tell her that it wasn’t her job to figure anything out… that none of it made sense…and even though her father was making horrible choices they really did still love her…and she was valuable. I would like to go back and protect her…and then I would like to go punch my father in the kahunas and tell him he was a jerk for not having any self control.

In the big picture good came from it… I got brothers and sisters and a whole new set of adventures from that…but for that three year old girl… I still do cringe at the ripple effect this house and the choices and secrets held there had on her life…and I wish for her sake it could have all been different.

I wonder if my life would have been different if I had lived on a street called Peaches and Cream Avenue?
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Questions for the day:

• What did your first house look like?

• Is there anything you wish you could go back and say to your three year old self?

• How do you see her world through your grown up eyes?

• What is one of your favorite memories from your childhood home?

• Who was your favorite “icon” when you were young?

• When you were little what was your favorite snack?

• Did you have a secret childhood hiding place?

Of course you don’t have to answer all of them or any of them for that matter… but if any of them made you think… I’d love for you to capture those thoughts so you have them to share… because they are worth being heard!