I Waited 5 1/2 Years For Her

I shared a bedroom with my parents until after I started school. We had two bedrooms upstairs in our house at the time and they were separated by a very narrow landing at the top of the stairs. There was no hall -- just that step-sized landing. Mom was afraid I would get up and fall down the stairs, so I stayed in hers and Daddy's room where I slept in a crib until I was five. I remember holding my hand out through the bars of the crib and holding hands with Mama when it was dark at night.

When Aunt Carla was on the way, Mom and Dad put a single bed in their room for me and kept the crib at the foot of their bed for the baby. When she was just a toddler, she slept in the bed with me because Uncle Brian needed the crib. One night something terrible happened. She cried and sobbed for a long time and it broke my heart. It was while I was asleep and having a dream about her climbing into the bed. I dreamed that I grabbed her arm and bit it -- something totally out of character that I would NEVER, ever do to the little sister who came into my life when I was five and a half. I adored her so. Problem is, I DID grab her arm and bit her really hard.

Mom didn't believe my wild tale. It truly did sound like a lame attempt at a cover-up. Problem is, I was telling the truth. But my stinging bottom was clear evidence that my Mama didn't believe a WORD of what I told her. Oh, did that break my heart. Not only did I hurt my precious little sister, but Mama said I was lying. What hurts a child's worse than being proclaimed guilty when they aren't? That was an AWFUL night. It was even worse than the last night I wet my bed, and that was traumatic. I thought I was a BIG girl!

That room all five of us shared was small with a sloping ceiling. There was a window in a dustpan dormer that looked out over our driveway. Another window gave a view of our fields and the woods behind our house. There was a linoleum on the floor -- it was blue with a flower pattern around the edge. There was no closet in the room, but an over-the-door rack for hanging clothes. I remember Mom’s vanity with its huge, round mirror. I liked to dance and do antics, watching my reflection in that mirror, of course. I remember once opening the lower drawer of that vanity and finding my mother’s lipstick and then using it to paint designs on the edge of the drawer. Mom wasn’t as impressed with my artwork as I was.

Carla and I graduated to the room across the landing when it was time for Uncle Clifford to come home to join us in 1952. He took the honored crib at the foot of his parents' bed, Uncle Brian graduated to the single bed by the wall and Carla and I were on our own in a room that had only been used for house guests until we inherited it. I was SO excited, even if I DID have to sleep in a white iron double bed with my little sister. It wasn't so bad keeping each other warm, but I really, really DID NOT LIKE it when she hugged me. I just wouldn't allow it and now I feel sorrow and guilt. The little dear just loved to snuggle.

I ought to tell you there was a chamber pail in our parents' room to use at night, since we had no indoor bathroom -- just an "out house". We called it a "slop pail" but some people called it a thunder jug. I imagine you can figure out why if you don't know already. I remember overturning it a couple of times and my poor Mom having to clean it up. Yuck!

Poor Uncle Brian! As he got a little older and was potty-training he got into a problem one day. He was sitting on that pail and spinning around on it when suddenly it flipped onto its side and left your uncle plumb in the middle of the spillage on his bare butt. Oh, did he cry! He didn't tolerate the sight and smell of excrement very well. He cried over spilled. . . . well, I don't blame him.