When was the first time you really felt like a grown up (if ever)?
In my own wee eyes I was always grown up since about the age of nine. I have said this before in other posts of mine. But the love of my life was baby dolls. My best memories were at the age of nine. It is strange how I don’t remember very much before that time. I usually accept the fact that life was rough before that age.
Here is the repeated words. I would take my hand-made doll bed out under the big shaded oak tree. I would place an old blanket on the green grass. Place my bed on top of that. It would be filled with different baby dolls, bottles, clothes and little blankets.
For hours under the shade I would play all summer long. I would use my mother’s old comb and brush. I borrowed bobby pins, and when I got by with it I would also borrow my mother’s lipstick.
I would carefully change all my babies outfits. Take clean wash cloths and change their diapers. I wrapped them in blankets and walked with them around the yard. I talked to them like they were my real babies, all mine. I was the Mommy.
I would push them one at a time in my toy baby carriage. My Daddy had placed a wire basket on my bike and before I realized how far those pedals could really take me; I would ride up and down the dead-end lane we lived in.
I realize that although I don’t have a complete puzzle I have enough memories. There are a couple of jagged edged pieces still missing but it’s alright. I know that a lot of who I am today is because of the slowly put together puzzle pieces.
I always wanted to be a Mommy. I wanted to share my love with those around me. I knew that even at that tiny age, I had not had that bond before. I don’t remember what I said to my dolls, but in my mind yet today, I can see me taking them for rides and feeding them on that big old blanket.
I was a grown-up woman in a young girls frame. I recognized some basic needs that people wanted and craved in life. I made up my mind through that summer of nine years old that I was going to be the best darn Mommy when I was old enough to have babies of my own.
I did get that opportunity three times. I failed many times but the love I felt for my own little ones never faltered. We all know that instructions aren’t provided when they bring that tiny wrapped bundle to your room. We all do the best with what we know.
Who I became at a young age still is seen in me today as I have cared for so many ill people in my adult life. The job title of caregiver and Mommy and Grandma remains with me until the day comes when I no longer breathe from my lungs.
I had a three-month break. God knew I was tired and sad. He knew I was exhausted of ideas. He helped me reboot my life. Today sadness still remains from my brother not being here.
The guilt has left finally of placing him. I can smile again. I see the wonders of God in my life. I look out my windows with a different set of eyes. God has seen this and now he is letting me know that I am ready for the next sequence of my book. Al is most likely coming home.
I feel peace about this. I am not stressing out. God is providing all the help that I will need to continue my journey with my brother. I am not saying there will not be sad days. Days of how do I get through this paragraph on the page. I will be able to do it. After all I have been a grown-up being a Mommy and caregiver since I was nine years old.
- Daily Prompt: All Grown Up? Or Do We Have Room For Growing? (layedbacklife.wordpress.com)
- Short and Sweet (hastywords.wordpress.com)
- little three year olds. reading to baby dolls. already a little mother. (lovelychaos.typepad.com)
- It’s The Wrong Season – A Daily Prompt Post (edwardhotspur.wordpress.com)