I have many favorite childhood memories.  There is one that is so vivid and clear.   It is when I got to stay at my Mamaw & Papaws's house.   The weather was very cold outside and they would turn off the gas heaters at bedtime (I am guessing for safety and to not waste propane).   My Papaw had built that house little by little over the years and there wasn't much insulation so the house would get cold very quickly.   Mamaw would get us grandkids off to bed and then pile quilt after quilt on top of us until we couldn't move.  No joke.   We couldn't move but gradually warmed up.  I can remember the smell of the homemade quilts and the weight of them.   Some nights, I could hear the howling of wolves or coyotes in the woods (in my young mind I thought they were wolves) and my heart would pound as I listened closely to try and tell if they were getting any closer.    But I would gradually fall asleep, safe and secure in that little playroom where we slept.    When it was morning, they would turn back on the flame in the heaters and I can remember sitting on the cold floor, wrapped in a quilt, trying to get close enough to the heater to get warm but not too close.   We would watch early morning cartoons or The Three Stooges while Mamaw made us cinnamon rolls.    It was always dark when we all got up but gradually, light would start to glow through the windows.   I love this memory.   I felt safe and happy.    The bittersweet part of such memories is that you can never go back.    Growing up isn't nearly as fun as we thought it would be and life proves to be a great deal harder.   So when I get a flash of such wonderful memories, I smile as my heart aches.  It was an enchanting time.

I am not sure of the year that this took place.   I must have been pretty young because my sister was still around that summer and she had not yet gone off to Baptist Bible College.   It is a well known fact in my family that I disliked getting dirty, but from time to time I would join in with my sister, Laura, and my cousins, Little John and Wendy for an outdoor activity that only the young could ever imagine as fun.    We enjoyed digging "caves".   Our grandparents were pretty good about letting us pick a spot on their property and letting us dig.   Most of the time we would dig some pretty big holes and they wouldn't be any deeper than maybe a couple of feet but the width of hole could get rather big at times.   I can remember trying to dig out "seats" against the wall of the cave.   We had all kinds of plans for each cave that we dug, but for some reason or other, we always moved onto something else.   One cave we had the brilliant idea to dig under a huge Oak tree, thinking that the shade would give us some relief from the sun and heat.  I remember that cave very well because we had to quit digging due to all the huge roots from the tree we kept coming across.   Despite the roots, I enjoyed digging on that one the most.  It stands out in my memory so clearly that I can hear the hot breeze blowing thru the leaves of that oak tree.   I remember the smell of the freshly uncovered dirt, the feel of the shovel that was way too big for me, and the jolt of hitting a root.    How glad we were to see Mamaw bringing us something cold to drink after we had been outside a while. Sometimes it was ice water, sometimes it was lemonade, and sometimes it was Kool-aid.  We were always thirsty after all the digging and she would pass out the small Dixie cups (the kind that always had cartoons on the outside) and pour us how many ever cups we needed.  I somehow always managed to get some dirt in my mouth.   I always thought how nice she was to bring us stuff to drink and that no one had a better Mamaw than we did.   Now I think she was probably bringing us drinks to keep us from tracking dirt into her house.    She kept a very clean house and hated "grit".  Anyway, we would work at digging a cave for days at a time, and I was always the one to give up first.   I really didn't like to be dirty and the more we dug, the more the idea of a place to hangout, made of nothing but dirt, became less and less appealing.   So I would head off to Mamaw's house and get cleaned up and spend my time playing with my Barbies or "helping" Mamaw cook. 

Then came the time of "THE cave".    Laura and Little John spent a great deal of time on a particular cave.   They dug it deep.   It wasn't wide at all.     It seemed the only goal for that cave was to see how deep they could get it.   I don't know how long it took them to dig it that deep but it was almost to or right at my sisters shoulders when she was in it.    Then, they had to postpone any further work on it because it rained and rained.    By the time the rain had moved on, the cave was FULL to the top with rainwater.    The way that some family tells it, I was in on the fiasco from the beginning, but that is not how I remember it.    Now there is no where in my memory that Wendy was involved in this.   I remember Laura and Little John starting out by just putting their feet in the cave that had become a mud pit.   Little by little they managed to get in the mud pit until my sister was fully standing in it, only her head and barely her shoulders were visible.   Little John was in the mud pit as far as he could get and still hold onto the edge to keep from going under.   I can remember standing there looking at them doubtfully as they tried to talk me into getting into the mud pit with them.    They assured me that it felt really good and was fun.   "Just put your feet in!" was how it started.   I did so and then they would talk me into going a little further and a little further.   I remember being scared and it DID NOT feel good, but I was already in as far as I could and still hold onto the edge.   What happened next is somewhat of a blur.   One minute we are in the "cave" that was full of muddy water, the next I see Mamaw charging across the backyard towards us yelling.   My memory skips here.  I was in the cave , then next thing I remember we are standing in the backyard, Mamaw spraying us down with the water hose, chewing us out non-stop.    I cannot remember any of what she said as she fussed at us but I remember being VERY scared.   I hated to be in trouble and we had made Mamaw very mad!  My final memory of that day was feeling scared and then somewhat betrayed.   Betrayed because I saw there in the kitchen window, the faces of my mother and my Aunt Wanda.....laughing.   I thought they would come out and rescue us from Mamaw's wrath but they just stood there looking out that window at us, laughing at the whole scene.   I do not remember anything else that occurred that day.     I think that digging caves no longer held any interest for me at all after that.    Digging in the dirt was over-rated anyway.    Such a dirty job!