Looking back

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Lately I have been perusing through some old photo albums from my childhood. While some of the memories still linger in my mind, it is almost like looking through a book of someone else. Rather, someone else's child. How could that have been me? It feels like a totally different life.

I had a pretty typical childhood. Born very much wanted into a loving family in a cute suburban neighborhood. I had awesome parents and a big, yet close-nit extended family. Who could ask for more as a little girl who was new to the world?


Here's mom. She was (and still is) one of the best people I know. She would do anything for her family and not think twice about it. I love these pictures of her. She reminds me so much of myself now.


And my dad. I was such a Daddy's girl. I love hearing the story my grandma tells about the phone call from my dad on the day I was born. She asked if he got "his boy" (the one he had been talking about for the whole pregnancy presumably), to which he replied full of excitement: "NO! I have a BEAUTIFUL baby GIRL!"


Speaking of Grandma, she was another constant in my childhood (as she is still today). She is an amazing woman. Mother of nine, grandmother of sixteen and great-grandmother of eleven. I have absolutely no memory of her ever losing her temper or raising her voice. Now THAT's a strong woman with that many children running around! She is the backbone of our whole family. I just love her.


I have so many great memories from my childhood, especially from the summers. Days were spent at the swim club with cousins, sunshine, water and twist ice cream cones. Julie was always my partner-in-crime. We grew up side by side, readymade best friends. Now we're both mothers and life has pulled us in different directions, but I will always cherish those memories and know the bond of our history from the time I was born will always be there.

I remember weeks at the lake cottage, when summer was exactly what it should be for a kid.

And then, something big happened. And I do mean BIG.

My little brother arrived the month before I turned three.

I don't really remember much about his birth or the early years, but from the look of some of these pictures, I don't think I was all that thrilled at first. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he spent a lot of time doing this:


But, the best (and probably worst sometimes) parts that I remember most about my early years are my parents. When I think of them, this is the way I picture them in my head...

Mom was always sewing or doing something creative to entertain, feed or clothe us kids. Even though times have changed and mom is now more of a best friend to me than a mother, I will always think of her like that.


And Dad, always layed back in his chair. Always those same eyes, that same tilt of his head. Sometimes Dad feels like such a distant memory that I can't fully picture him in my mind. Other times I feel like it was yesterday that he was sitting next to me on the couch and I was holding his arm in my lap, hugging it as it was my imaginary babydoll. How time has flown. So many things have happened. So much has changed. In a way it is heart-wrenching to look at these photos, knowing how different things are now. But, at the same time, when I see a picture like this:

of my little brother, bearing an uncanny resemblance to my own youngest child. The same face, the same expression that I see looking up at me every day. Yes, a lot has changed, but so much of it has been good. Great, even.


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1 comment:

Jaimee said...

Those pictures are sooo cute! Amazingly, I have photos that look just like those. Even the one with the flower chair. It's so fun to go back and look at those photos, thanks for sharing!