I’m a little girl with a little curl right in the middle of my forehead. When I’m good, I’m very, very good but when I’m bad I’m horrid. Boy if I only knew how real this poem would become in my life in later years. Being in first grade with the best teacher in the world, there I was again being placed on a stage again before an audience of strangers to recite another poem. Well now I just found out (tonight) this poem is a part of the “Mother Goose” collection. You know I never really appreciated this poem because I thought it was not a good description of me. I wasn’t really bad and heck, I didn’t know what “horrid” meant but it had to be a bit worse than bad. Being the first born and being a girl was a very interesting I thought. It seemed that everything that involved me was everything but easy. Shucks, even my name had its own story. Anyway, during the summer prior to first grade, my mother was told by the family doctor that my younger sister and I needed to have our tonsils removed. We both had issues with colds and the like.
I remembered with the help of my mother that after being prepped, I began to cry when I saw the gurney approaching. In my mind, I thought this long skinny funny looking bed with the wobbly sounding wheels was coming to take me away from my mommy. I got upset because I was the only one being taken away. I figured my sister should have been on that thing with me. Mommy walked with me only a little way because my sister was back in the room to await her turn. My mom said when I returned groggy with the anesthesia she remembered laughing at me because she said I left laying the center of the gurney and I returned cross ways the bed.
Unlike me, my sister was carried back in the arms of one of the nurses. Then came time to learn to eat again was not to be a challenge for the girl with the big appetite. Well, I cried and whined so much trying to drink my ice cream that I was given only gelatin and I swore someone put sandspurs in it. I remember looking at my sister who was five at the time seeing were are only eighteen months apart and hearing her ask mom for a piece of the toasted ham and cheese sandwich she was trying to eat. Well I knew my sister would never be able to eat it because my sister would gag at the sight of mashed potatoes. Not only did the girl eat it after my mom expressed her concerns she ate the whole dad gum thing with ease while I was trying to choke down melted gelatin. It was those type days that I later realized my mother earned her wings as my heroine. She put with a lot from me yet she always encouraged me to press past what was difficult and focus on the one thing that would cause me to learn persistence. . Being able to eat my all time favorite, Spaghetti-Os with butter, ketchup and black pepper (mommy’s version) two weeks after the surgery was worth the wait.
Thanks Again Mom
No comments:
Post a Comment