My sisters and I are always reminiscing about our childhood. We share a lot of laughs in the process. As you can imagine there was never a dull moment with seven kids nine years apart.
I talked to my little sister yesterday and to one of my other sisters today and it got me to thinking about all the times we shared growing up.
I was born smack dab in the middle of Houston, but we were all raised on a cotton farm south of there so we didn’t see the city very often growing up. Looking back on things, I often wonder how mama stood things on the farm, being a city girl. I do know one thing; she has far more patience than anyone I know. And you’d have to have an endless supply of patience when you hear all the stories we don’t even remember.
I can’t imagine standing outside washing diapers and everything else on a scrub board while visiting with my aunt who found herself in the same boat. I can’t even fathom what must have gone through her head at the time.
I envision her getting much more than she signed up for or expected when she married daddy, but she never complained one time. It couldn’t have been easy with all of us little kids.
Mama was always scared for our safety, but of course, kids are kids, storms were an exciting time for us. The rain that pounded the windows and left big mud puddles everywhere was fantastic. We couldn’t wait to race out and wade in the ditches. It was wonderful to stand out on the porch and watch the thunderstorms roll in. The breeze was cool and refreshing, drying up all the muggy sweat. Of course, once the shower subsided, it was worse than ever and the ground would steam, our clothes sticking to our backs once again and sweat beading up on our faces.
Even when a bull escaped the fence, it was exciting and all eyes peered from the door or window while we watched for it to come running down the road. We knew if we valued our lives, to stay indoors while the men rounded him up and mended the fence. Only one time my sister and I were out in the field when the Brahma bull got out of the fence. He was the meanest one we ever had and we were both scared of him. That’s a story for another post.
All of us kids could take pleasure in the least little thing out of the ordinary because nothing much happened on the farm. The thrilling moments offered a great diversion from ordinary life.
We laughed, cried, and generally made the best of all situations, whether it was games, watching the clouds roll by, or eating watermelon and then standing in line waiting for the bathroom, making each other laugh to see who would wet their pants.