Mystery Memories

Being the baby of a family of eight, has more dimension than you can imagine. I am 20 years younger than the oldest. I am six years younger than the closet brother. So, growing up in my family was a memory mystery.

My days were filled with being alone with mom and dad. But these other members of the family came and went. I had five great years on our family farm. I was five when we left and I have to say the memories were some of my best. Maybe because all my brothers and my sister traveled through the house either coming from a day at school or from the Twin Cities with girlfriends or on motor cycles.

It was so normal. I remember cookie baking with mom, my aunt Marie coming for supper and helping with baking at Christmas. I remember the time my brother came home from the Service all decked in their uniforms and the celebration was so breath taking.

The funny thing is that now it sounds as though my memories are just a glimpse of positive times. I really don't care, mostly because I felt so normal. I know our life was not a bed of roses, but guess what, I am glad that there was enough love round me to make me feel as though the world was truly whole and we loved each other.

I remember good days and isn't that what life is about. Taking the good and making it better. Thanks to my family for those warm feelings. By the way this is my brother Marv. What a stud muffin he was. But even though he is a good looker, he is still the best guy ever.

Carol