Growing Up and Looking Back

You know when I start thinking about my happy childhood I wonder why it was so happy-partly because of the extended family all around. Never any doubt in my mind I belonged. After moving out of the neighborhood, I had no trouble with fitting-in. I think being so happy for those first years of my life made me comfortable with self for years. Later, I felt inferior for some reason but some of that was normal and some was the town where we moved. That town had quite a “class system”. ( Now I know it wasn't just that particular town.)

Sometimes I miss the “clan” so. Especially I miss my mother. She was my guidance counselor and wise about most everything. I called her from wherever I lived for advice and wisdom until just a while before she died. I still talk to her often but the answers don't come. I feel so lost at times.

And yet, as the mother of a friend said when her last parent died, “Now we are the old-folks.” Yuk.
So I guess I am wanting to go back again to the happiest carefree days of my life: to the days of smoky, belching trains running by the house, to the huge yard, to the dirt of the yard, to the fights with my little brother, to the chores I thought I hated, to the paper dolls, to the hand-me downs from my big sister, and even to the trouble-maker big brother.

I miss the little red platform rocker and the old records my mother let me play over and over. I miss the Saturday night baths in front of the only heat in the house. I miss the most wonderful teachers and school administrators. I miss the janitor that played with us kids and made us feel even more special.
I miss the chat piles, our pet crows we raised from babies, the plum tree in the back yard and yes I miss the mulberry tree. I miss the rabbits dad raised back of the house. I really miss eating them. My mother could fix them so-o-o good. I know some are bothered by the thought but they were not pets, never were.
They were meat on the table and a little money for the family. We were glad to get both.

Those days were the “good ol' days”. Yes, they were hard but they were fun at that innocent age. I never knew we were from the wrong side of the tracks until many years later in my life. No shame for where I grew up just wonderful memories.

I just hope my son and yours kids have wonderful, happy memories like I do. I am sure they will but they will be their memories. Memories of their generation and they will someday sit and think of their “good ol' days” too.

Thanks to my husband for the picture of the wren.