Memoirs of a child

We celebrated Mother's Day this year at my aunt's house. We have had it at her house for several years now. When I was a kid, all of the family celebrations were held at my grandparents house. Their house was built in such a way that the living room had two entrances; this made it possible to literally run circles through the living room, family room, and kitchen. I can't tell you how many times my sister and I got into trouble for doing that. The land their house sits on has several hills that are perfect for snow sledding or Radio Flyer riding. Two hills are separated by a creek with a bridge going over it that my grandfather built. I never will forget one summer when my sister and I were in the Radio Flyer wagon, screaming down the hill over and over. I was in front steering, and my sister was behind me, along for the ride. Every time we rode down, we made it to the bridge safely. Stacy begged me to let her steer just this once. Against my better judgment, I let her. I should have known the tragedy that was about to happen when we started down the hill and we were jerked back and forth by Stacy's God-awful steering skills (which she still has today, I might add). We were too far to the left upon approach. Everything happened in a split second, although it plays in slow motion in my mind. Driving up the bridge, the two left tires slipping off the edge, us toppeling over into the water. Let me tell you, an old school Radio Flyer wagon hurts like hell when it lands on top of you. I don't think we ever laughed so hard in our lives. Today, my grandparents are in their late 70's, making it difficult to do what it takes to prepare for a family get together. So, my mom and my aunt divy up the holidays at their homes. I always enjoy getting together with the family, but there's something about being at my grandparent's house that made it right. It's times like those that make me miss being a kid.


Ma and Pa Kelley