December 8th

I was four, almost five, when my brother was born. I strangely remember chunks of that evening.

My sister and I were at my Granny and Papa's house but I don't remember for how long or when we got there. All I know is I was watching Little House on the Prairie when we got the call. Being four, three-days-short-of-turning-five, I was mad that my show was cut short by a trip to the Fredericton hospital.

I think we were in the waiting room with my grandparents for a while, then we found out that David James had made the scene. They brought my sister and I to the bassinet that held him. I remember very clearly looking at this perfect round head with scrunched eyes and down-like hair, "That looks like my father." And sure enough, he does, even to this day. A little taller and broader than David James I, but they look the same.

Then they brought us to see our mother, who had just had a c-section and was high as a kite. It was 1980, after all. She scared me as she loopily asked us to give her a kiss. I just wanted to go look at the tiny creature who looked like my father.

Dave was a cute baby, with the nastiest diapers ever but a strong sense of self. He was a strong little boy and a talented young man. Now, he's a husband and soon to be a father. I wonder if, when I see his baby, I will think "that baby looks like my brother"? I just hope his baby's diapers show mercy to him and Nicole.

Happy Birthday, Dave.

Reminiscingly Yours,
xoxoSallyS