This is a continuation of my time line series. Years zero through two can be found here.
Year Three:
My bedroom is at the end of the hall. I sleep in a twin bed with a Unicorn comforter set and Little Mermaid pillows. A hammock of stuffed animals hangs over my head, and my bed is surrounded by red steel bars to prevent me from rolling off the bed and hitting my head on the hardwood floor. The window above my bed is next to a small grassy area between our house and privacy fence that me and my best friend will later call our clubhouse. The tree in the club house casts a shadow on my wall at night that looks like a claw about to grab me from my bed. I worry about the claw every single night.
My mom, my brother, and I attend church at a big church near our house. At this time, all I know about God is that he is a man that lives somewhere above us, and that Jesus literally has a home in my heart (I envision a log cabin). The church uses an intercom system to make announcements about upcoming events at the end of service. One day my mom is talking to a friend when they start making announcements. I am upset that everyone is talking so I shush them and tell them to listen because God is speaking.
My grandfather is a big man who always wears the same overall jumpsuits engraved with his initials W.O.E. He has eight jumpsuits, and he keeps them organized in a certain order to make sure he doesn't wear the same jumpsuit the same day over a two week period. My grandfather is the only optometrist in my mother's small Texas hometown. Everyone knows my grandpa, and he is known to accept gifts, such as roosters, when someone can't pay. His office seems like a winding maze of hallways for me to explore, and his showroom is filled with every type of eye glasses imaginable. I love the showroom and playing dress-up with all the glasses. I now know the glasses are really expensive, but he never chides me for playing recklessly with them. In the years to come, I will always look forward to getting my eyes checked by my grandfather. After he passes, I will hate going to see new eye doctors.
Showing posts with label Timelines. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Timelines. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
TimeLine: Years Zero through Two
I was inspired to chronicle the years of my life by one of my favorite bloggers Heather from Nothing But Bonfires. Her writing style is amazing, and I almost always envy everything she writes. I’ve always had this odd idea, that one day when I’m old and grey I will have my old blogs bound as journals for my children. Then they will really know what their parents were like before they become all parental and uncool. So I think this timeline idea is just a wonderful way to document a life. So in the next few months, I hope to get one up for every year of my life.
Year Zero:
I entered the world on May 17th, 1986 at midnight in a hospital in St. Louis, Missouri. But at the time, my mother, father, and ten year old brother were living in Stanford, Illinois. They had recently moved there for job opportunities, so when my mother went into labor a week early, they drove over two hours to be with her doctor. But even though I came prematurely, I didn't want to enter the world, and my mother labor's stretched on for a day and a half, before I was delivered by Cesarean section. I would think I was an "accident" for years, because I once did the math between when my parents married and when I was born, and it didn't add up. But I got the courage to ask to my mother one day, and she told me she knew she was going to marry my father, so they decided to go ahead with the "baby making."
My paternal grandfather was a pilot and owned a plane. So when I'm two weeks old, he flies to Missouri to pick up my mother, me, and our poodle, Monique, to visit family in Texas. During the flight, they encountered a bad storm and the flight became extremely turbulent. My mother glances in the cock pit and my grandparents are pouring over maps, and she is sure we are going to crash. She makes her peace with our death, and braces for the worst. But they eventually touch down safely. When my mother glances at Monique, she notices her legs are cardboard straight, and she does not budge for hours.
By the time I turned 6 months, my mother leaves my father due to domestic violence, and we move back to small apartment in St.Louis. My father moves to his hometown in Texarkana, Texas. One night at dinner, my brother tells my mother he wants it to stay just the three of us forever.
Year One:
I am a happy baby, but I never sleep which is not easy on my mom. I am slow to walk and talk, although my mother feels I have the ability to do so, I just don't. Instead I stubbornly crawl on just my knees for months. My mother does not consider this odd, until my cousin Alicia babysits me one day, and comments that she has never seen anything like that before.
Every weekday morning, my mother drops me off at a professional babysitter's house before going to work. One morning I am fussy before she drops me off, which makes the birthmark on my forehead red and very noticeable. When I am calm, I have no birthmark at all. When my mother comes to pick me up, the babysitter voices concerns that I am being abused. My mother has to call my pediatrician to provide proof.
My mother's parents come to visit, and take me back to Texas to spend some time with my father. They work their way through the St.Louis Airport, and make it to the gate with plenty of time to spare. My grandfather promptly falls asleep (many stories told in our family have to do with my grandfather sleeping) and my grandmother is so preoccupied with me, that they don't notice their flight is boarding and they don't get aboard. My mother is baffled by how two adults can miss a flight that they were seated right in front of.
Year Two:
My mother buys a home in Spanish Lake, a suburb in St.Louis. The house is nice sized with three bedrooms and a huge basement. My brother makes the basement his room, but it takes months before he finds the courage to sleep down there at night. Years later after he is gone, I will make my room in the basement. But it only takes me three days before I am sleeping down there all night. The house is painted ugly shades of black and red, which we later paint yellow and blue.
I like to play with our dog Monique. But sometimes I am a little rough with her, grabbing tufts of hair and not letting go. One afternoon my mother returns from doing laundry in the basement to find that I have Monique in a death grip. Monique does not try to save herself. Instead she sits around waiting for my mother to save her. Monique hides from me for years after that incident.
Every fall weekend, my brother has to fill up a trashcan with leaves. Once he has a full trash can, he always picks me up and throws me in. He lets me jump in the leaves and I squeal with joy. This is a tradition we carry on for years. It is one of my favorite memories of my brother.
Year Zero:
I entered the world on May 17th, 1986 at midnight in a hospital in St. Louis, Missouri. But at the time, my mother, father, and ten year old brother were living in Stanford, Illinois. They had recently moved there for job opportunities, so when my mother went into labor a week early, they drove over two hours to be with her doctor. But even though I came prematurely, I didn't want to enter the world, and my mother labor's stretched on for a day and a half, before I was delivered by Cesarean section. I would think I was an "accident" for years, because I once did the math between when my parents married and when I was born, and it didn't add up. But I got the courage to ask to my mother one day, and she told me she knew she was going to marry my father, so they decided to go ahead with the "baby making."
My paternal grandfather was a pilot and owned a plane. So when I'm two weeks old, he flies to Missouri to pick up my mother, me, and our poodle, Monique, to visit family in Texas. During the flight, they encountered a bad storm and the flight became extremely turbulent. My mother glances in the cock pit and my grandparents are pouring over maps, and she is sure we are going to crash. She makes her peace with our death, and braces for the worst. But they eventually touch down safely. When my mother glances at Monique, she notices her legs are cardboard straight, and she does not budge for hours.
By the time I turned 6 months, my mother leaves my father due to domestic violence, and we move back to small apartment in St.Louis. My father moves to his hometown in Texarkana, Texas. One night at dinner, my brother tells my mother he wants it to stay just the three of us forever.
Year One:
I am a happy baby, but I never sleep which is not easy on my mom. I am slow to walk and talk, although my mother feels I have the ability to do so, I just don't. Instead I stubbornly crawl on just my knees for months. My mother does not consider this odd, until my cousin Alicia babysits me one day, and comments that she has never seen anything like that before.
Every weekday morning, my mother drops me off at a professional babysitter's house before going to work. One morning I am fussy before she drops me off, which makes the birthmark on my forehead red and very noticeable. When I am calm, I have no birthmark at all. When my mother comes to pick me up, the babysitter voices concerns that I am being abused. My mother has to call my pediatrician to provide proof.
My mother's parents come to visit, and take me back to Texas to spend some time with my father. They work their way through the St.Louis Airport, and make it to the gate with plenty of time to spare. My grandfather promptly falls asleep (many stories told in our family have to do with my grandfather sleeping) and my grandmother is so preoccupied with me, that they don't notice their flight is boarding and they don't get aboard. My mother is baffled by how two adults can miss a flight that they were seated right in front of.
Year Two:
My mother buys a home in Spanish Lake, a suburb in St.Louis. The house is nice sized with three bedrooms and a huge basement. My brother makes the basement his room, but it takes months before he finds the courage to sleep down there at night. Years later after he is gone, I will make my room in the basement. But it only takes me three days before I am sleeping down there all night. The house is painted ugly shades of black and red, which we later paint yellow and blue.
I like to play with our dog Monique. But sometimes I am a little rough with her, grabbing tufts of hair and not letting go. One afternoon my mother returns from doing laundry in the basement to find that I have Monique in a death grip. Monique does not try to save herself. Instead she sits around waiting for my mother to save her. Monique hides from me for years after that incident.
Every fall weekend, my brother has to fill up a trashcan with leaves. Once he has a full trash can, he always picks me up and throws me in. He lets me jump in the leaves and I squeal with joy. This is a tradition we carry on for years. It is one of my favorite memories of my brother.
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