Childhood Memories
When I was 4 or 5 years old, I had a bright blue vinyl Cookie Monster raincoat that I loved. It had brass-colored buckles that were a joy to open and close. But the best part was the cookie pocket - a clear pocket with an illustration of cookies behind it, creating the illusion of a pocket filled with chocolate chip cookies. I remember pulling out imaginary cookies and “eating” them every time I wore it.
I’m not sure what made this raincoat pop into my memory as I woke this morning. But it wasn’t just a fleeting thought. The memory lingered and took hold until I found myself looking online to see if any of these raincoats were still available. It’s not that I wanted to buy one. I just wanted to see a picture of the raincoat and bask in nostalgia for a moment.
Alas, I did not find one, but I do think this memory has a message for me. Maybe even a message for you.
The raincoat reminds me of the joyful imagination that I experienced as a kid, pulling out “cookies” to share. It reminds me of jumping into big, splashy puddles. It reminds me of my grandmother on my mother’s side who loved whimsy and play.
Thinking of the raincoat also reminded me of other childhood treasures like the Peter Rabbit plate that I ate dinner on every evening throughout my childhood. My sister, Rachel, found one of these vintage plates and gifted it to me a few Christmases ago. I have it displayed in my dining room and it makes me smile each time I walk by it. I love the inked lines, the colors, and the whimsy in that little scene.
And of course, I remember the many, many hours my sisters and I spent creating adventures for the people in our Fisher Price People House.
I realize that these early childhood experiences set the stage for my imaginative nature, allowing it to grow. I lost that playful magic for quite awhile as my responsibilities grew and I moved from child to adult. But these last few years of art practice have shown me that my playful side never really disappeared. It was simply hidden away, ready to come alive again.
My art is a celebration of that small, imaginative child. It’s a celebration of the child that lives in all of us.
I hope this inspired you and brought back memories of your own childhood treasures. What can you do this week to honor those memories and inject a bit of play into each of your days?