Padews Away

I feel the time has come to explain the title of this blog and the reasons I chose it. When I was a little girl, I hated sleeping alone. I still do. A primary reason for getting a dog was so that he would sleep in my bed. I particularly liked to sleep with my parents. Luckily for me, they did not subscribe to the parenting that believed children should always sleep in their own beds.

When I was a toddler, we lived in a green house on Howard Drive. We lived there until I was 4. This is the first house I remember. And I have very fond memories of it. Mostly, I think, because it preceded a time when I would be introduced to the harsh realities of the world at a young age. Not long after we lived in this house, my aunt was murdered, a man in our church turned out to be molesting children, and I started going to school with children who didn’t think being a Christian was cool. These are the types of things can steal a bit of that childhood innocence. On Howard Drive, I would fall asleep in the hallway just so I could hear my parent’s voices. I would eat caramel apples while watching “Sha Na Na”. My mom would fill up the sink with soapy water and let me pretend to do dishes. I would try in vain to be the traffic cop for my brother and sister on their big wheels. (They never obeyed my commands). I would wake up early on Saturday mornings and beg them to teach me how to play Yatzee. I never knew they didn’t know how to play either. I remember rooting for Jimmy Carter to win the election because he had blond hair. Life was simple. I was a kid.

I was not the most skilled communicator as a toddler. I said “lestricity” instead of “electricity”. And I called pillows “padews”. In the mornings that I woke up in my parents bed after my father had his shower, my dad and I would play a game. It was called “Padews Away”. My dad would hold a pillow up over my face and say “Padews Away” and then drop the pillow on me. I would hold my breath while the pillow was above me and then squeal in laughter when it dropped. This memory comes with the smell of the room. A mixture of a down pillow, shower steam, and Pierre Cardin cologne. It is one of my favorite memories. One of those games that were uniquely my dad’s and mine. As a third kid, you cherish those things that are just yours and not shared with siblings.

As I started this blog on the precipice of a major life change, I was very deliberate in naming it. I wanted to recapture for my own soul that childlike wonder. The wonder that never feared my needs would not be met. The wonder that saw all things as good and safe. The wonder that can believe through trial and struggle. The wonder that should develop in adulthood to know that good things come to those that wait. Even if you feel like you have been waiting a very long time.

So, to my slow start in Nashville and the questions of why I am actually here, I hold my breath in anticipation. And wait for the laughter on the other side of the padews away.