Yo-Yo Momma

My momma was looking through the junk drawer in our kitchen, and guess what she found? Three yo-yos: a red, a blue, and a yellow one. Ones that were gotten a good eight or so years ago. Printed on the sides of the yo-yos is the Toon Disney logo -- back when it was Toon Disney; now it's Disney XD. (Although, I'm not sure what the XD is supposed to stand for...) 

The red one doesn't work too well anymore -- it doesn't want to return after it's sent out. The blue one works great, and I don't know about the yellow one; I haven't tried that one yet. 

Anyway, we were sitting at the kitchen table, and I was playing with the blue one. Momma was in the chair next to me, and, as I was sending it out, Cleo, my kitten, started to go after it. It was really quite cute. But, as I was playing with the yo-yo, I remembered when momma taught me how to use it. I was just a little girl, and I couldn't get it. I was getting frustrated and put-out, and momma took the toy from me, and started to use it perfectly -- at least according to my memory. Momma hasn't used it since then, as far as I can recall. 

Anyway, she showed me how to loop it on my finger, how to flick my wrist to send it out, and how to gently jerk it to make the toy return. It's a strange kind of circle that the wrist and hand make, almost like a crescent. But it's strangely pretty to watch the arch that the toy and hand make to complete the motion of play. 

I can remember sitting in my room and just playing with the toys after she taught me how to use it. Sometimes it would be for only a few minutes; sometimes it would be for an hour or two. I would flick it until my wrist was sore and a blister was forming under the rope on my middle finger from it rubbing back and forth, chafing the tender flesh. And I never got tired of it. I loved it, mostly because momma taught me how to do it. Most of the things that momma taught me, I enjoy doing, and I do it often. In me, she's instilled a love of crafting, working with my hands, and reading. 

When I was a little girl, I can remember momma reading in her rocking chair or sitting on the couch. When I was a really little girl, she used to read me to sleep - sometimes two or three Little Golden Books, sometimes a couple chapters from a children's novel. It was she who gave me the love of horror and mystery and suspense stories (of course, at the time, they were all gauged for children). The clearest thing that I can recall her reading to me were stories from a Bible for children. I can remember the brightly colored pictures of women in vivid berries and wines, regal blues and purples, and pure whites. The men wore generally earth tones- browns, tans, khakis. There was a plethora of animals, and the sky was always so clear. I don't remember the stories, but I remember the fact that she did read them to me, and I remember the pictures. 

But that's a different story. 

I think that I was probably in sixth or seventh grade when she taught me how to use the yo-yo. I know that it wasn't too long after we moved into the new house (or what was the new house at the time - we've lived here for about a dozen years). 

I don't remember when I stopped playing with the yo-yos or how I lost interest in them. I just know that I stopped, and that I haven't picked one up since then. And I do know that it's been several years; for some reason 2003 sticks in my head. I remember, when I was writing or working on school papers, and I would get stuck, I would take out the yo-yo and pace around the room, thinking. Sometimes an idea would come rather quickly, and I could finish. Other times, I would just play with the yo-yo, enjoying the break that it brought me.

Strange how memories are evoked by such simple things. All I did was flick a yo-yo, and what seemed like years of missing memories came back -- things I know I've forgotten. Or, maybe I haven't forgotten them. Maybe they were just buried deeply in the boughs of my mind, tangled in with other thoughts.