Four. Today is the fourth day of October, the fourth day of the blog challenge, and I must admit that I am finding myself a bit stuck. I seem to have a shortage of four stories; I can’t remember any stories of myself at that age and the one I was going to relate about Tomcat’s first fishing trip can be found here.
But, now that I’ve been interrupted and had my poor fried brain distracted for a bit, I’ve remembered a story. I actually had this one in mind a couple of days ago, only for it to be forgotten because I didn’t write it down (yes, I’m already suffering from CRS at 28).
Anyway. My mom has a large extended family and when I was young, we used to go to a lot of family reunions and things. I think most of these were on my grandmother’s side of the family, but there used to be a reunion on the Terfehn side, my grandpa’s side, that we went to every year. His mother, my oma, died when I was four. Since she lived in the next town over from us, I’m sure we saw her fairly regularly when I was little, but I really can’t say. There is one memory, though, that sticks out.
My grandpa had one sister, who had two granddaughters. One was a year older than me, one a year younger. The older one and I were good friends growing up and when we were little and visiting Oma, we used to play clothes-shoot ball. Oma had this neat clothes shoot in her bathroom that pulled open like a drawer and then went straight down to the basement. One of us would stand in the bathroom and one in the basement and then we would play catch through the clothes shoot. The only problem was that we would get the ball stuck in the far corner of the shoot on its way back up a lot of times. Being four and five, we were too short to reach it, so we would have to fetch Oma to retrieve the ball for us.
I also remember dressing up in clown costumes with my cousins when we were all visiting Oma. My grandpa’s sister lives in Omaha and used to volunteer as a clown at a local hospital. When she would come back to visit, she would bring some of her clown things with her for us to play with. She and my grandpa were a couple of big kids who were great fun for us growing up. Now when Seymour suggests that he’s a big kid like it might be a bad thing, I remind him that I like that in a man because it reminds me of good times with family growing up. I hope that someday, our kids will have memories they can look back on as fondly as I recall my family get-togethers.
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- A Day With Grandpa… (adanmawanji.wordpress.com)