Dear, Henley June,
Like most parents, your father and I will strive to give you a nurturing childhood. Your father and I were richly blessed by parents and grandparents who loved us to the best of their ability (and then some). As I look back over my childhood, one thing is for certain-I was never alone. My older sister Rosemary and I were attached at the hip. Rosemary was adopted at birth by my parents two-years prior, and she feared nothing.
She was the typical brave, assertive (over-bearing) and responsible older sibling. In fact, my speech was delayed until I was three and a half; for Rosemary was always speaking for me. Based on the amount of public speaking scholarships I earned for college, however, I was clearly not scarred by this. Rosemary and I loved to play dress-up, read, cook, and put on plays for our family. We loved being with my Mother’s parents, Mema and Pepa. I once read that the human brain cannot recall any memory before the age of three, but I can. Example: Shampoo bird.
When I was a toddler I had the longest brown hair, and I hated getting it washed and brushed. Being the very passionate person that I am, I would throw the biggest fits when it came time to wash my hair. However, Mema found a solution for this-a little, decorative, plastic bird with gaudy fake feathers on it. This was Shampoo Bird. Whenever, it was time to have my hair washed, I would lean my head over the kitchen sink for Mema to wash it and I would hold Shampoo Bird right over my face and just look at it. For some odd reason, staring up at this fake bird calmed me. Mema and I would sing, and Shampoo Bird would dance as she scrubbed my scalp. I remember this brown and yellow bird so vividly. I would’ve had some dirty hair (and probably lice) if it wasn’t for that bird.
When I was three, my parents divorced. My Mom, Rosemary, and I moved in with my grandparents. Though this was a stressful time, Mema and Pepa loved us through it. My Mema tells of a night when she heard me crying in my bed. She left her room to come check, but by the time she got to the hall the crying had been replaced with singing. “Somewhere out there beneath the clear blue sky, someone’s thinking of me, somewhere out there, out there.” As she cracked the door open, she saw five-year-old Rosemary sitting on the bed calming me with our favorite song from the movie Fivel Goes West, “Somewhere Out There”. Mema did not interrupt Rosemary, she just let her sing me back to sleep, which she did.
Every time I tell this story my heart smiles. I am so thankful for the shampoo-bird support of my grandparents and the soothing lullabies of my big sister. I look forward to creating such memories with you.