This note was written by my brother when he was eleven and I was five. Even though my father had recently moved out, we were all still close emotionally, even my mom and dad. When I found this note, I laughed and cried at the same time. I hesitate to post it, but this IS an autobiographical blog, and I've redacted my brother's name so hopefully he won't kill me if he should stumble across this post.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
I'm still going through my mother's papers, piecing together a mosaic of my early life that I was too young to understand or remember. I don't feel that I'm nosing in where I shouldn't, due to the fact that my mom saved these scraps of life with the purpose that I should inherit them. Much of this stuff I could certainly do without, indicating how poor we were financially, but there are bits and pieces that shed light on how rich we were with family love.