random sweet memory…

I got married for the first time when I was about 4 years old. I wore rain boots, freshly-picked flowers atop my head, and no shirt. My “husband” David was my grandparent’s neighbor, a month older than me, with whom I spent many a happy, childhood day. It was his idea to “baptize” me after the ceremony… it sounded terribly proper to us at the time. Holding hands and with great solemnity, we crept down the embankment toward the small river that signaled the end of Grampy’s property. The details get fuzzy here, our laughter and the sun dappling thru the rustling leaves above… I hit my head on a rock, and we were scolded and coddled in turn while “Grammy Cracker” soothed us with cookies and milky-sweet mugs of Postum.

I remember laying in bed that night, gently rubbing at the swollen mound on the back of my head and grinning sleepily. The sheet was pulled up to my chin, feet sticking out the bottom, tangled in my blankie. I gripped my dolly and slipped my thumb into my mouth, sighing deeply and just KNEW it had been the best day of my life. I had the bump to prove it.


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