we were the waltons
I'm one of the lucky ones--born to parents who didn't think innocence was a dirty word. They allowed me to grow up at a leisurely pace while everyone around me raced toward adulthood. I never went to bed worried that my mom or dad would run off, or that the bank would take our house, or that I'd go hungry. I suppose we were poor, but I never had a reason to wish for anything more than I had. Everything I needed was right inside those paint-chipped walls. Love was there, in the stuffed animals Mom crocheted for my sister and me for Christmas. It was in the Halloween costumes she sewed by hand. It was there at the dinner table, where the six of us gathered every night at the whine of the six o'clock whistle.
Weekends were designated family time, but we never lived on a schedule. We hung out with aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. Family always came first. School was important, but only the part that took place in the classroom. We didn't participate in after-school activities. Instead we stayed fit by riding horses and dirt bikes, exploring miles of country roads and timber. We had a paper route, and that meant getting up to deliver papers before school--on foot (a pretty good workout). In the summer, we walked the fields with Dad, pulling weeds from the beans and cutting cane from the milo. For fun, we ran barefoot in the rain without our umbrellas, and walked the creeks collecting rocks and leeches. We learned respect for nature along the way.
We didn't live in a bubble. We knew bad things were out there; we just didn't experience them firsthand. We were innocent. I miss that.
Weekends were designated family time, but we never lived on a schedule. We hung out with aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. Family always came first. School was important, but only the part that took place in the classroom. We didn't participate in after-school activities. Instead we stayed fit by riding horses and dirt bikes, exploring miles of country roads and timber. We had a paper route, and that meant getting up to deliver papers before school--on foot (a pretty good workout). In the summer, we walked the fields with Dad, pulling weeds from the beans and cutting cane from the milo. For fun, we ran barefoot in the rain without our umbrellas, and walked the creeks collecting rocks and leeches. We learned respect for nature along the way.
We didn't live in a bubble. We knew bad things were out there; we just didn't experience them firsthand. We were innocent. I miss that.