This is the beautiful tree in my front yard. With rain in the forecast, I need to take a picture because one good rain will bring all the blossoms down. It is so pretty and then gone so quickly.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Saturday, February 20, 2010
The Start
I am the second of eight. Perhaps no better statement defines who I am. Yes, I now I am a wife, a mother, a working professional, a sister, a friend, but of all the roles I play, played and will play, nothing defines me more precisely than as being the second of eight.
When you come from a family composed of eight kids, two parents, a grandmother and one very mean dog, you explain your place in the world by where you fall in the chaos. When people asked who you were, you answered where you landed in the line of the family. It was your point of orientation. No, I was not the first of eight; that would be my sister Lisa. No, I was not the baby; that would be my brother Jeff. I was simply the second of eight. Of course, my orientation was a constantly changing thing. I remember fairly clearly being the second of six, the second of seven and then finally landing as the second of eight.
Being the second of eight gives me my own unique perspective. Even though the first five children are any where from fourteen to eighteen months apart, we each have our own memories and interpretations of what it was like growing up in a family of ten. Sometime, my perspective of what happened in our family is so very different even from the one before and after me. I know for a fact that it is completely different from the group that brought up the tail end of the parade of kids.
Over the next year, I hope to share my perspective of being the second of eight. These thought and memories are mine alone. I know that I will ruffle feathers, be corrected and be told that this was not how it happened. But this is how I remember from the eyes and minds of a four year old, teenager, and finally as an adult.
I hope you enjoy the read.
When you come from a family composed of eight kids, two parents, a grandmother and one very mean dog, you explain your place in the world by where you fall in the chaos. When people asked who you were, you answered where you landed in the line of the family. It was your point of orientation. No, I was not the first of eight; that would be my sister Lisa. No, I was not the baby; that would be my brother Jeff. I was simply the second of eight. Of course, my orientation was a constantly changing thing. I remember fairly clearly being the second of six, the second of seven and then finally landing as the second of eight.
Being the second of eight gives me my own unique perspective. Even though the first five children are any where from fourteen to eighteen months apart, we each have our own memories and interpretations of what it was like growing up in a family of ten. Sometime, my perspective of what happened in our family is so very different even from the one before and after me. I know for a fact that it is completely different from the group that brought up the tail end of the parade of kids.
Over the next year, I hope to share my perspective of being the second of eight. These thought and memories are mine alone. I know that I will ruffle feathers, be corrected and be told that this was not how it happened. But this is how I remember from the eyes and minds of a four year old, teenager, and finally as an adult.
I hope you enjoy the read.
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