On this day in 1974 my brother Jay was born. He was like a doll baby to me; he was tiny, perfect and beautiful. As a twelve year old little girl you couldn’t have asked for anything neater.
Poor child, I drug him with me everywhere, he went to the roller-rink and the lake. I even took him to cruise town - by five he had circled the court square in my hometown more times than any self respecting seventeen year old boy.
Jay was only seven when I got married and I missed him desperately, my heart yearned for him in a way that I now understand. It’s a little like I feel when I’m away from my girls for too long – maybe not quite so intense, but close.
My Mom worked full-time and the main way I helped out was with Jay; I won’t even pretend to tell you that I did much of anything else, but I would like to think that I did do my part when it came to him. Even from the time he was tiny I was allowed and trusted to care for him. I learned a lot by practicing on Jay and when my first daughter was born it was like getting back on a bike.
Maybe it’s not something that he or anyone will ever understand, but his greatest gift to me is how he helped me be a Mom. Besides already knowing what to do; I knew the love of a child. And there is nothing better.