fuzzy memory

Way back in a very early post I marveled at how the writers of memoirs remembered things in such detail. Things like conversations and what they were wearing at the time. I am not convinced that people can really recall things as vividly as they can write them, but it is amazing what comes back when you start to put it down.

When I was very small, younger than three, we lived in a house at the edge of our little town. It was literally on the edge, a wheat field butted up against our backyard. We had a huge swing set that my dad made. It probably wasn't as big as it is in my mind, but he used tractor seats for the glider. Imagine getting clobbered by one of those

 I think we had one of those sandboxes in an old tire. I have a memory of the backs of my legs getting pinched by cracked rubber.

My dad doesn't play a starring role in my early memories but I clearly remember one afternoon when he called to me from across the yard, I could see he had something cupped in his hands. He spread his thumbs apart and I could see tiny little rabbit ears. I was delighted and instantly had to hold it.Of course I squeezed too hard and the baby bunny screamed like only a baby bunny can. My dad took it back, and I guess he let it go in the wheat field.

That is pretty much what I remember and I think it is mostly true.

Thanksgiving Thanks

Thanksgiving hasn't always been my favorite holiday. It was just a nice day with a good food that came before Christmas. That was the celebration that counted, what with Baby Jesus and the wise men and all those lovely presents.

I did have one problem with Christmas, and that was thanks giving. I would open my gifts,which were always pretty great because that was something my step mom was good at, and then I would just sit there. Oh, I said thank you but I would mumble it like some shy foreign exchange student who wasn't sure of the language. I'm pretty sure I was just embarrassed, but it must have come off bratty. My parents would sigh and say something about how hard they try.

Meanwhile my little sister would be bouncing around the tree, dumping out her stocking, shrieking with unabashed joy over each item no matter what it was. She bubbled her joy all over the place and I wished I was more like her. The personality differences exist to this day,though I am proud to report that I am much less churlish and have developed some social graces.

So now I am a Thanksgiving girl. There's nothing like an entire day of cooking,eating, laughing and loving to make you feel grateful. Even missing the people who can't be there makes you glad that you have them to miss.

This Thanksgiving morning I offered up my mumbled, dutiful thanks to a God who knew I was trying and doing my best. Tonight, at the end of a long, lovely time with kids and grandkids, I will fall into bed and give my Father all the thanks my heart can give.