…a memory of castor oil. A lot of talk about castor oil, the pros and cons. Did she even practice taking it in advance? Getting used to the taste, the feel, the horrible stuff?
…an early morning family parade through the kitchen: dad, mom, little brother, me, my view not quite level with the counter top. Why is it still dark outside? Why are we dressed and with our coats on? Where are we going?
…dad carrying me out of the car up a steep, snowy driveway. I know exactly where we are. I come here all the time to play with my best friend. It’s like a second home.
…sitting on the floor playing with little cars and little figures. I always sat with both legs out to the side, sort of reverse cross-legged. “You’re double jointed,” my uncle always told me. A knock on the door, my father walks in. He had dropped me off earlier: hours? yesterday? He walked into the living room where I played on the floor with my friend, and announced, “It’s a boy! His name is David.”
Precious glimpses, 46 year-old memories: my own gift to unwrap today.
Happy Birthday!
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