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50 years of life... The birth of Catherine was so long ago and I was so young that I can only try to remember.
I faintly hear my mother cry and being pulled and poked by my two older sisters, LuAnn and Janis. I was the new toy. I don't think I minded my face painted green or being coaxed to eat the elderly neighbors "candy" followed by terrible bitterness and a dose of epicac. Or playing wedding and I never got to be the bride, but I didn't care, it was play time with my sisters.
I did mind however being locked out of the play room with screams and slamming doors and my sisters leaving me standing alone in the field as they ran away laughing. It's funny what you remember.
I remember the day I tried to get our "lazy cat" to run across the road. Lazy cat never did anything but lay around. He never played with the other cats and was always alone. I decided that if I put him in the middle of the road and he saw a truck coming that surely he would run and thus learn to play with the other cats...."run kitty run!" He didn't run! I remember running in my red tennis shoes and little white socks to my parents who were in the kitchen of our big country home, the parsonage. I remember the high ceilings and the white tongue and groove walls and how small I felt in that house. I remember the smell of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, my father sitting at the kitchen table on the silver chair with the red plastic seat. One leg crossed over the other in pleasant conversation as he watched my mother prepare lunch. I climbed onto my fathers lap and as he embraced me with a smile I asked..."why did grandpa have to die?" I remember something about the life of a flower being described and my father taking the snow shovel to the road with me in tow and scooped up lazy cat. Looking at the lifeless cat cradled in the shovel I whispered in remorse, "if you just would have run you could play with the other cats".
I remember the times I pretended to have fallen out of bed and would lay on the floor until my mother found me and returned me to the safety of my bed. I remember the smell of wood and dust as I lay waiting for my mother to find me. I remember the softness and warmth of her skin and the sweetness of her breath as she kissed me on the cheek and tucked the covers under my chin. I think she knew that I strategicly placed myself on the floor, but would never let on as to spoil this special moment between us.
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