A remnant from my childhood. In fact, probably the only remnant...oh, I do have my original Dick and Jane book with my name in it.
On closer examination, one could interpret that this child saw every woman as a mother. Boy have things changed.
Well,people, I can honestly say I set my goals early and that I achieved them..almost...I had three children.
I just love this little scrap of paper. I wish I knew why I wrote it and where. I know my father saved it. I was somewhere in my 7th year of life. Mrs. Weber was my teacher. She was very strict and hardly smiled. I guess that is why I wouldn't have put "teacher" down as what I wanted to be...who would want to be like her?
My natural disposition was bright and sunny. In fact, the dreariness of that class was broken by our school janitor, who always called me Susie Sunshine. I loved that. I have lived up to it ever since. See how you can change a person's life. You never know how your words can make a difference in someone's life. But I also recall the deep sadness I felt when he was gone. One morning, it was just after Thanksgiving, the Principal came to our room and told us that Mr.? (How sad, I can't recall his name) would not be coming back because his entire family had been killed in a car accident over the holiday. I had to be Sunny without him. One of the first things I had to learn to put in a quiet place.
I also like that my father wrote my name and the year on the back. I miss him so much thinking about him now.
Reyna. That was my last name. Different from the rest of the kids in my predominently German Lutheran School. I could write a book about that very fact of seperation.
But the good thing was I had my identity early....Susie Sunshine.
I was pretty, smart, kind, and a good little Lutheran.
It served me well, until my brother died when I was 23 years old. The door shut. I stopped. I got through life,now I know, with a numbed and paralyzed growth.
So today when I look at my little scrap of me....I remember Susie Sunshine
and the janitor who named me this, and acknowledge the special grief I felt about losing him.