One of my earliest memories as a child was my Momma getting me up while it was still a little dark out and carrying me in a blanket to our old pickup truck. She loaded me up, and we would drive a few miles down the Railroad Bed before she delivered me and a small Tupperware bowl of piping hot cream of wheat to my great-aunt and great-uncle's house, Lois and Willie Holt.
I would go inside, sit in a chair in Aunt Lois’ kitchen and eat my cream of wheat, barely able to reach the table, watching steam rise from my spoon through sleep filled eyes. Aunt Lois would sometimes be cooking something else in the kitchen or cleaning up from breakfast. She usually donned a polyester dress and a head full of jet-black hair. She always seemed happy when I was around. She seemed to enjoy having a part in taking care of me and others, like my childhood bff, Jalana. She always made sure we were fed well, and we knew she loved us. Jalana would go on to lovingly call her "Mamaw Lois," if memory serves me right.
Every now and again, my great uncle Willie would be home, too. Mainly in the afternoons because he worked during the day. He would come home from working at the grocery store and have candy for me and any other child Aunt Lois was babysitting that day. Uncle Willie was the brother of the grandfather I never met. I faintly remember his smile. He always looked happy to see me, tickled even.
I don’t remember ever watching television at their house. I would sit on the couch, stare at the walls, roll around on the carpet, and mostly play outside creating imaginary worlds, poking bugs with sticks, and singing to myself or making conversation with Aunt Lois. It was the most fun when Jalana was there to play with me.
When Momma would come to pick me up, we would sometimes take a walk. I have wonderful memories of taking long walks with Aunt Lois, Momma, and Grandmother down the old dirt road they lived on, down the gravel hill, over the bridge my Daddy used to play under, passing by the farm that used to belong to my grandparents, over and down many more hills, around the curves, past the cows until we ended up at Middle Butler Road. We would turn around and walk back. Sometimes, I would skip.
During these walks, we talked. Well, mainly Momma and Grandmother talked. I listened. I can still hear Grandmother’s laugh when I would say something she found silly or cute. I loved to hear her laugh. It was big and uninhibited. It came from her belly and erupted into a cackle.
As I have gotten older, more of these memories resurface in my mind and hold space. My Momma worked most of my life and wasn’t a stay-at-home mom. I’m sure, like most moms, she may have experienced some guilt when she had to leave me.
But I wouldn’t trade anything for the memories of the time I got to spend with my family, like Aunt Lois and Grandmother, for anything. I’m hoping this story brings a little comfort to all the moms out there who may be leaving your babies with aunts, great aunts or grandmothers. I pray your babies have some of the best like me.
P.S. I'm going to be a great aunt in December, and I have some of the best examples to follow.
