Oblivious to any discord between my parents, I thought that everything was good and it was good in my limited view.
It was 1970 and I was the ripe old age of seven years. The era of love, peace and 1950’s rock n’ roll always playing on the stereo in our home. I was tall, skinny, very freckled, fair and donned an orange bouffant.
In those days, life was filled with…
Japanese beetles swarming on the wisteria in the back yard.
Fans in the windows trying to stay cool in the hot summer because our home didn’t have air conditioning.
Lincoln Logs put together and taken apart all day, wistfully dreaming of building my own cabin.
Buttered bread for snacks in the shade of the back porch overhang.
Building boats out of leaves for the ants to float on a little river I created between the edge of the cement pad and the grass in the back yard.
Rubbing baby oil on Mom’s back while she tanned.
Sleeping in the middle between my parents…smelling Old Spice on Dad and Chanel on Mom.
Lavender bedroom walls and dotted swiss curtains.
A little sister who became Miss Destructo while awake, but loved to sleep fourteen hours straight most every night.
Swinging on my blue and white swing set, staring at the clouds and dreaming.
Threaded throughout all my childhood memories is the running movie of Mom cutting, pinning and sewing new clothes for me. She loves to sew and made everything I wore. I always felt beautiful in her lovely creations.
So during the days of Ms. Gallagher and 2nd grade, Mom made the gold and brown plaid dress you see in my profile photo. That was a special dress to me. It suited my personality at the time. Mom told me the first time I put it on that I wasn’t to play with the ribbon bow or the ends would fray. I wanted the dress to last forever, so I didn’t play with the ribbon.
During these days of “fat” pencils and “green paper with the large section at the top to draw a picture,” I remained happy with school, home and family. My world was very small at seven years old and free from trials, sadness, conflict, depression, or pain.
Life isn’t stagnant and I grew older just like everyone else. I’ve learned and progressed and experienced all the emotions that I couldn’t even imagine when I was living the life of a seven year old.
Each time I bring up my blog, I see a naive and extremely happy seven year old staring back at me. She gives me hope that life can be good and happiness is not always elusive.