I Am Born

Once upon a time a little girl was born. I was the second child but the first, too. My mother had an abortion during the war when the mother's bf was transferred far away and they didn't get married. At least he paid for the expensive abortion. The figure of $400 comes to mind, but it may not be part of that story. And Mother was still able to have more children. Specifically me, after she met and married a US Marine. She often said that they were each others' "last chance."

The little girl had a toy bunny she named Bob-bee. If Bob-bee could not be found at bedtime, there was a lot of trouble. One time I threw up on Mother & Daddy's bed and on Bob-bee. It was a mess.

When Mother was pregnant with my baby sister, she was mad a lot. One time I "ran away" next door to my Grandma's. My Grandma loved me! But she would not let me stay, and I had to go home. When I got home, my mother had put both my brothers in my bed. She told me I had left so I didn't have a bed or a home anymore. Did I want to come back? That was a sad time. But she took them out and I got into bed. She was still mad with me (why I ran away) and I was mad with her, too. And very sad.

I remember Mother looking huge and enormous, sailing up and down the hallway in a green polka dot house coat. She was scary like a dragon. She was mad a lot. It was good to hide and not make any noise. She got mad when I asked questions about the baby coming, and later she got mad after Cayce came and I wanted to pet her and watch her. Her belly button (Cayce's) was all crusty and brown. I was not allowed to touch. I was not supposed to ask questions about babies or tummies or snot (mucus) or anything. I had so many questions, but they all made Mother mad.

Another time my Granny, mother's mother, was visiting and it was baby Rick's birthday. Mother decided to grill out on the front walk. (why?) It was rainy October day, and Mother was getting madder and madder at everyone. She sent the birthday boy into the house for doing something. Then she sent me in, too. When I got inside, Rick was slamming the hall door, which had lots of glass panes, over and over because he was angry. Open, slam! Open, slam! I found that annoying but was also scary because the glass could break. So I told him and told him to stop. But he didn't. So I held out my hand and shouted No you don't! and the door slammed on my hand right up to my armpit.

I remember waking up at the hospital and doctors hovering and talking nice to me. I guess they said they pulled pieces of glass out of my arm. They stitched me up, but it didn't hurt. It felt cold. Mother may have said they left glass inside. We went home, but the blood started again and Mother got upset and called. I don't remember if we went back. I held towels under my arm to catch the blood.

Sometimes she let me roller skate inside in the hallway. Now I know that was bad, but then it was just fun, a relief from the mad, sad and scared times.

I remember when Daddy came home (at last!) to that house. He came in the house and down the hall (past the infamous doorway) and he was wearing his "Major Hat." He was smiling and smiling. He picked me up and hugged me. It was wonderful to be hugged by my Daddy. But he did not want to talk about the hat or where he had been or answer my questions. Was he mad, too? He had to put me down to talk to Mother. And he stopped smiling.