Growing Up Years

 This is what our stove looked like back in my growing-up days.  It isn't an actual picture of our stove.  I found this on the Internet.  It's the same exact one, though.  Ours was not in this good condition.

Below is my grandma.  That's her house in the background.  We loved going to Grandma's house.  It always smelled like chocolate chip cupcakes in her kitchen, and the place was warm and inviting.  

Below is our Christmas tree from back-in-the-day.  We always had a real tree.  The smells of Christmas were phenomenal back then.  

Below is a photo of 5-year old me with two of my older sisters.  I remember those dresses.  Soft, girly dresses.  We didn't have much, yet we were so very rich.  My sister has requested I write a memoir that includes our growing-up years.  I'm trying, and maybe once the holiday buzz is over ...  like maybe next week ...  I can resume.  

It will likely be boring to most.  But to me, to us, it will be fun. 

***Dreaming***

 We got some snow last night.  

The above photo is the wallhanging that served as a background for my Christmas Village.  Our reality is below.  

Much like life, reality is a whole lot harder of a pill to swallow than the beautiful world of dreams and make-believe.   I find the further back in time I allow my memory to soar, the gentler and kinder I find life to have been.  

Dreaming of warmer, calmer, more magical days!

  

Brother Jim, Sister Rita, Sister Angie and Me

Little Girl Gone

Some days I try to turn off the hustle bustle of traffic up and down our road and take my mind back to a simpler place and time.

For a moment I forget about the hectic, adult obligations of the here and now ~ and I smell lilacs in full bloom in our yard just clear of the clothes line where Mom is hanging clothes on the line.

Its quiet there, in my once upon a time world.  Paying attention to detail, I notice the green grass and even the patches of dirt where grass won't grow.  My hands and arms are dirty from a full day of play.

There are no worries.  No obligations.  No deadlines.  The only drama is kids stuff, and it all washes away with our weekly bath.  (ugh!  Did I say weekly?)

The old four room house is hot in the summer and cold in the winter.  There is a path out back to the outhouse when we need to go.  But we don't complain.  We make do.

I think about my life.  I've come a long way since those once-a-week baths and the outhouse path.

But somehow... somewhere along the way...  I seem to have lost the innocent little girl who thought life was all good... once upon a time.