Eventide

Daughter of the Third Girl

Daughter of the Third Girl 

My mother grew up in a small town, with one of almost everything a small town should have. 

She was the third girl, and when she was born, my Nana turned to my Papa and said -

         "Don't worry honey, the next one will be a boy."

She was right, and fifteen months later my uncle was born, the cherry on top of this small town sundae family. 

My mother's childhood was filled with expansive skies, homegrown vegetables, and the same twenty-two kids in her class every year until she graduated.

This was small town life, where there was only one size of stockings, and tuesday's, thursday's and sunday's were spent at church.

I should mention that my Nana loved church,

and I should mention that she didn't really like children. 

One day, my mother said that my Nana never spoke to her.

This explains my mother's love for long chats, why she will make time for me even in the throws of a crisis, a long, or illness.

This explains why the most prominent memories I have of my Nana are her teaching me how to make my bed with hospital corners, and telling me I couldn't eat berries off the bush in the garden. 

She never really had the patience for children.

I knew my Nana had died before my mother did.

Some stupid relative sent a Facebook message, and it was the first thing I saw that morning.

Sometimes my mother will pause, look at something off in the distance, say -

        "I miss my mom."

I loved my Nana, but I wish I had really gotten to know the side of her that my mother misses.