I never liked being an only child! It was lonely, living on a farm. Our closest neighbors were about three miles from us, a mother and her four sons. Those boys were no fun; all of them were much older than me. I would beg for a brother or sister, promising that I would never fight with them, not realizing how how naive that was!
My constant companion, when I was able to be outside, was my dog Spot. He was kind of a “common variety” black and white dog, large enough for me to ride around the yard on his back until I was about five years old. I did befriend some chickens so that I could pick them up and carry them, but they weren’t much fun. My mom would often come outside to see if I still had a stick in my hand when the geese were in the yard, in case the gander decided that I was in his ‘territory’. I was never allowed to go into the barn when my parents were milking the cows. Cows kick, you know, and they also are not particular who is around if they decide to create a ‘cow pie’. Yuk!
My mother sewed my clothes, and curled my hair into ringlets using rags instead of curlers. My grandfather gave me used piano when I was five years old, and my piano lessons began. My dad would often take me for rides on his saddle horse, and when I started school, he would take me on his horse in good weather. There were times in the winter that the snow was too deep to get the truck up the hill, so dad would hitch the team of horses to a stoneboat, pick up the neighbor’s boys, and take the slow trip to school. Two school years of that routine convinced my parents that they had to make some changes. My dad didn’t enjoy milking cows and growing grain … he had been a cattle driver in the Cypress Hills for several years before he married my mom, but he couldn’t afford to purchase a ranch. They finally decided to move to the city, making it much easier for my schooling. Dad learned to be a construction carpenter, and my mother looked after foster children until I was in high school.
For as long as I can remember, I didn’t want to be referred as a ‘spoiled brat’, even though I probably was. I worked very hard during my “growing-up” years to be independent, as much as possible, but still respectful and compliant to my parents. I didn’t want to be a disappointment to them because there weren’t any other children for them to turn to.
It is only in the last several years, and observing sibling conflicts that severely strain relationships in families, that I can say how happy I am to be an “only child”.
Tags: Family Children Alone
