Half a Century

So, five decades ago less one night, my girl-self was sitting on the steps of a house that's been torn down for years. Probably a good thing, seeing as all the sadness and mess that house contained and who knows what sort of lives were lived, what ideas were thought w/in those walls. My mom was pacing back and forth past our pink wall phone. TE 3-1640. That was our number. 715 North Cottage. That was our address. Years later I'd set a book there. The fictitious Cathcarts would live there and in a way, they still do. We still do.

Mom was wearing a bathrobe made of pinwale corduroy, turquoise: her favorite color and certainly it did favor her high rosy coloring, her freckles, and her wavy auburn hair. She was debating about just when to call the doctor. Don't know just when, but sometime the next day, fifty years ago today, she gave birth to my sister - a big deal, considering that my siblings then consisted of a trio of little brothers.

My folks let me name her so I gave her the name of my favorite author and my favorite character in books: Laura Ingalls Wilder. So: Laura Jeanne. Pretty little girl - and how is it that I'm so young and my little sister is 50 years old?

Golly.

Time's a runaway train.