The older couple that lived next door were like grandparents to us. They were retired and their children were grown and out of the house. Uncle Lou spent his days in his garden always keeping an eye on us as we played outside. He fixed our bikes and showed us how to tell a weed from a flower. Auntie Helen stayed indoors most of the time so we didn’t see her as often. When she did come outside I always held my breath waiting for her to ask us in for a visit.
A visit meant sitting with her on the sun porch eating homemade cookies from an old metal tin and Kool-Aid out of paper cups. It also meant being able to open our own special drawers in the large sideboard in the dining room that l called a dresser. Inside our drawers we each had a special coloring book, a box of crayons, a paint book, watercolors and a set of paper dolls. No hand me downs or leftovers but chosen especially for us according to our age and favorite characters or themes. We used our best coloring skills and treated everything carefully putting it away neatly for the next visit when we were done. She hung our artwork on her refrigerator just as she had done with her own children.
At home, out of necessity, we learned to share; at times a room, most of our toys and even a bed. During Auntie Helen’s visit we were unique individuals. My parents treated us as individuals amongst the chaos of a large family, but it was those quiet times away from home that helped me be me. I know that my grandchildren may have to share the guest room and take turns on the computer but they will each have a drawer with their own brand new things so they always know they are special and unique.
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