When I was a couple of years too old to climb onto Santa’s lap with a wish-list, I did just that. All I wanted was a baby sister. That’s all I thought about; that’s what I tacked on the end of my bedtime prayers, right after “bless Mom, Dad, Deanna-Bonita-Vickie-Loren-Julie-Frankie. I already had four sisters and two brothers. Why, oh why, did I want more? Of course Santa can’t deliver babies, but I like to think my prayers and wishes were responsible for planting a seed of a new miracle, because nine months after Christmas, I had my baby sister. Continue reading
When I was a little girl, my smile was the best. People commented on my smile a lot, even people I hardly knew. My uncle Jim said I had a smile like Haley Mills because my smile lit up the whole room, just like hers. Haley was only a couple of years older than me.
Still, I cried a lot, too. I cried about all kinds of things. I cried when I was sad; I cried when I was angry or frustrated; I cried when I got tired. Back then I never cried because I was happy. One big problem with my crying is that I was not a pretty crier. I was such an ugly crier that Mom took pictures of me. Continue reading