It has been eight years since I lost my mother (and my brother). It is hard to believe, but I am reminded every time I need to call her to answer a question. Those times are less and less with each passing year. I certainly do cherish my memories when I can remember them. It is clear to me how God delivered me perfectly into this world to the family that would nurture me best in a time where Asperger's wiring was not even a thing.
1945, she was 15. Both of my parents had dark hair and had two redheaded children. We had a really great life.
September 7th is my brother's birthday. Happy heavenly birthday, John, Bosco, as my grandfather Etter called him.