Mom was pregnant when I was eleven.
Nancy cuddled her doll baby in eager expectation.
The still-birth hit her hard she tells me now.
But I was carefree, dashing across the street 
to Doreen's house to watch Mickey Mouse Club
or pre-occupied on the sidewalk for hours
keeping the hula hoop whirling on my waist.
There were memorable times with Mom:
May walks in Lilac Park; summer picnics and camping;
singing in the car on the way home.
Best of all were our Skip-a-Cross games
after the younger kids were in bed.
Yet most times I was content alone or with
my friend Alice whose tree we climbed.

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