Give of Yourself

I grew in up in a time that seems nonexistent nowadays.  I guess my brother and I would be considered part of the first latchkey kids. Mom and dad both worked full time and daycare centers didn't exist.  We took care of ourselves after school let out until one of the parents arrived home.  This wasn't exactly the best scenario for kids, I have scars on three of my fingers where my brother and I fought over who would wash the dishes and who would dry.  We were around 6 and 8 years old and both hated the part of washing the dishes.  Which seems strange now, there wasn't much difference between washing and drying, but it was a big thing back then.

Being the little sister it was usually my job to wash, but somehow I got the lucky straw and was drying the dishes that afternoon.  We were living in Tucson, Arizona, I was probably in the first or second grade, my brother, while two years older, was just one school grade ahead of me.  Dad was at work and mom was at school.  It was part of our chores, which were expected to be done before they got home, and the fear of dad brought results that normally would have met with resistance in other homes.

It was a knife that we fought over at the sink.  My brother was still mad about having to do the dishes and he slapped the knife blade first into my hand, I instinctively grabbed it, when all of a sudden he pulled it back.  It sliced deeply into three of my fingers and blood ran everywhere.

The only thing I remember at that point was screaming about the blood, everything else from that point until the hospital is a blank in my mind.  The only other thing I remember is a doctor with a German accent sewing my fingers up and the room seeming to be really dark and dingy.  The fingers were on my left hand, and being left handed it made learning to write at school a real challenge.  I actually remember learning to write with my right hand for a while after that.  One of the scars still hurts to this day, the nerve endings never really healed.

A lot of terrible things happened to my brother and I when we were on our own without parent supervision. But on the flip side a lot of great adventures happened then, too.  

One of the best things that would happen, was when school let out for the summer time my great aunt would come and care for us.  She taught us our multiplication tables by having us write them out every day. At the time seemed like torture, but it saved me numerous times on math tests in the years afterwards.

She was what people called an old maid, I suppose. She never married and I find out after she had passed on it was because the love of her life died suddenly when they were engaged and she never tried to find love after that.  She was an independent woman who wasn't afraid of life.  I loved how she spoke her mind and never let anyone make her feel less of a woman just because she was single.  

She had the kindest eyes and the best smile, but she knew how to control two redheaded live-wires, namely my brother and I.  As I have found myself single and becoming the age she is in my memory, I find myself relying on her strength more and more.

There are days I hate being alone and would love to have a companion to share my life with, but then I think of how she never stopped to have a pity party.  She always served other people and found her life rich with the memories of loving those around her.  I know my life is better because she spent her summers with me and my brother instead of sitting on her porch feeling sorry for herself.

I challenge myself and other single digit people to keep life rich by giving to others.  Make someone's life better by being a part of it. Donate time to read to a child at school, serve at the food bank, read books for the blind, anything to make this world a better place. I know you will be in a better place in this world if you do.