...goes to Salt Lake City. At least that's where my story led me. At 18 months old, I wasn't exactly your image of a well-adjusted toddler. What toddler is adjusted?
Heading into the holiday season and no other place to go, Mom moved back in with Grandma and Grandpa. Humbling, frustrating, maddening, saddening: all describe the situation for Mom.
Stunting and bewildering seemed to describe me. My guess is my brothers felt the same.
Once we got to Grandma and Grandpa's house, life drastically changed. A constant stream of activity with Mom's siblings, my aunt and uncle, left us in awe. Mom was on the hunt, for work, among other things. Rebounding after a marriage gone bitter sour can't have been that pleasant. Mom was, and is, a beautiful woman with great legs (it's true)! So she wasn't out of the running for finding another man.
She quickly got into the secretary business and did very well. She was a great typist and organized herself into a highly-sought-after assistant.
Her three children organized themselves, too. My brothers were attached to Grandpa as soon as he got hom from his civil engineer job. I attached myself to Grandma.
We have fond memories of living in Grandma and Grandpa's gingerbread Victorian house near Sugar House.
My earliest memories of Grande Anne was being pushed in the old, red metal stroller up to the corner market. I recall the sound of the "click, click" of the wheels on the sidewalk cracks. I recall the brown loafers Grandma wore with white ankle socks. I remember dusting the staircase with the old dusting rags sprayed with the lemon scented furniture duster sold to Grandma by the traveling salesmen. I thought I was helping her...but she was helping me.
She did that a lot.
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