Hancock County Writers Group, Writing assignment, Feb. 5,2017

When What Seems Wrong is so Right

I didn’t think much in my childhood was right, looking back 60 years, my childhood toughened me to live with one foot anchored in the world of imperfection and the other anchored in the world of endless possibilities.

My father chose to marry a widow with six children and together they believed three more would be perfect.  My mother chose to lose a “good job” at Central State Hospital rather than be abused by her supervisor. Rather than morn childlessness, I chose to adopt newborn twin sons. 

Perfection is a state of mind and in my childhood, I was constantly surrounded by people choosing joy, beauty and love, rather than bitterness, ugliness and hatred.  There is joy in a well swept yard, a cool dipper of spring water, cold buttermilk and hot cornbread.  There is beauty in the quilt made from salvaged scraps, pillowcases made from flour sacks and pictures from last year’s calendar tacked on walls. There is love in the made over hand-me-down dress, the nickel tucked into a pocket and the bunch of collard greens left on the back porch.

My childhood was laced with joy, beauty and love, enough for a lifetime.