My Childhood Visitors

I was a quiet child growing up. Without going into great details I would have to say I was one of those “forgotten children”. It seemed that everyone else was busy with something or someone else. I was the youngest of four children, and the sister who was born a mere 14 months before me was diagnosed with major health issues from day one. Not only did she have heart issues which eventually caused open heart surgery she was also predicted to not live past her 3rd year of life. I am happy to report that she is alive and kicking still on the verge of celebrating her 50th birthday this month.(Fall Equinox to be exact)  She will more than likely live way  past the rest of us. Ah, the marvels of modern medicine.

Yet that is not the pathway that I wish to take with this posting. Since I was born quite soon after her birth and she still required frequent trips to the doctor and hospital for multiple surgeries that she would have during the first few years of her life, I did not partake in the usual baby mother time. As I grew older this continued as I was quite healthy and a quiet timid child. I was perfectly happy with my multitude of cats that occupied my time on the farm. I did not need the companionship of my much older brother or sister, nor did they wish to give it to me.

In retrospect although this time of my life (through my 4th year) had moments that would terrify me and the lack of what some would consider the basic nurturing that most children received; it was also a time of some of the most memorable moments of my childhood. I slept in a baby bed in the old farm house in a room just off from the kitchen. A window was near my bed and I remember being able to see the moon from it. A dresser was positioned next to my bed and each evening a baby bottle would be sat atop it for me to have access to through the night.

Although I know I was only four years old the memories of this time are quite vivid in my mind. In fact some of them are more vivid then memories from later on in my childhood, yet that is what repression does to you. One evening that I remember with clarity was an occasion after I went to bed and awoke later in the night. As I went to the dresser to retrieve my bottle I could not reach it. I remember trying yet to no avail.

Suddenly a woman came through the door of my bedroom and was walking towards me. She wore all white and her hair hung around her shoulders. She came towards me as if floating and a glow like shimmer surrounded her. She never spoke a work yet it was as if I could understand what she spoke to me. As she came closer she handed the out of reach bottle to me. She stood by my bed until I must have fallen asleep as the next thing I recall was morning.

Another instance was not realized until much later in my life. I had lived with the memories of late night talks around the kitchen sink while sitting on the kitchen cabinet, my feet sitting in the sink. As I sat and gazed out the window at the night sky and all its wonder I remember being told stories of the moon and all her glory. In retrospect it seemed that at most times this occurred when the moon was full. A woman stood at the sink, She would share her stories and knowledge with me as well as another girl who stood beside her.

For years I assumed that this woman and other girl were my mother and older sister. I did not think much about it until once when I asked my sister about it. She had no idea what I was talking about so I dismissed her recollection as the fact that it was probably not her who shared in the late night stories. Later I brought the subject up with my mother who responded in a similar manner as my sister. She did not know anything of what I was speaking of.

She continued to tell me that although she did not ever remember sitting with me in the kitchen conveying stories she did remember finding me on several occasions asleep on the kitchen cabinet in the mornings. She also added that I should know better than to think I would be allowed to sit on the cabinet with my feet in the kitchen sink.

After this revelation I wondered for sometime who the woman was. Who told me the many stories of the moon and warned me of specific places on the farm not to go? Was it the woman who also assisted me that evening with my bottle on the dresser? I am not sure if I will ever know yet I do feel that I was being watched over.

One occasion when I relayed this story to my granddaughter then at a tender age of 6 she looked square at me and said in a child’s matter of fact manner, it was your angel GG. I think she was right.