Thursday, September 9, 2010


 I had a sister once… for a few hours.

It was a sweltering July morning when my father gave me the news that my mother had just had a baby! Just like that… there was no leading up to it. I had no idea she was pregnant. I rushed to the hospital to see my mother and new baby sister… only to find that the tiny infant wasn’t expected to live. My mother had been told when I was born that she shouldn’t have any more children… but she ignored the advice. Little Candice Jo lived only nine hours.

For some reason, I’m thinking about her on this lovely fall-like afternoon. She would have been eighteen years younger than I am, but at least I would have had a sibling.

I’ve never minded being an “only” child; in fact, I’ve enjoyed it. When people ask, “How does it feel to grow up without brothers and sisters?” I always answer, “Great! I loved it.”

But perhaps getting older makes us think more about family and what might have been. Maybe we need to be close to as many people as possible as we age.

Whatever the reason, I’m feeling a little sentimental today. The changing of the seasons always does that to me. I tend to withdraw into my own world, blocking out everything except the splendor of the season, my thoughts, and my relationship with God. It is a time for reflecting on what was, and is, and is to be. But mostly for enjoying the beauty of this very moment!

I wonder... With so much difference in our ages, would Candy Jo and I have been close?

1 comment:

sally said...

I know how you feel peggy. my sis died to.