Raising children sitting down

After all, when we can't reach something, we use extenders:  a long pole, a stool, a ladder or a willing pair of shoulders - or cable cars to reach the other mountain sitting down.

I had an aunt we called Kaka.  Beautiful woman with a big heart and bosom that offered comfort when my mother was away. The oldest sister of my mom.  She took everything sitting down - literally and figuratively. 

We were her extension and so her pair of canes too. She was my mom's extension. She was our miracle. 

You would think that a person with a pair of shrunken and crippled legs would have no use to the world?  They have hearts too and eyes and hands and a voice.

So she raised us when our parents were away.  She raised me more than she raised my siblings who came before me.  It was in the year that I was born when all things good and abundant kept my parents away from home making sure that they take care of the business.  My youngest brother became her beloved as well.

I learned to sweep the floor through her.  She cooked for us while she sang.  She taught us how to be compassionate and forgiving and tender and to appreciate beauty.  And taught us independence.  And she was never bitter.  We knew the songs of the 50's through her.

My eldest brother used to say:  " I will look for a girl with the beauty of Mommy and the heart of Kaka." 

My confidante growing up and my critique too.  I spent summer afternoons with her pulling a few strands of gray hair while she listened to my endless stories.

My older sister had my mother's youngest sister as fairy godmother and gained all favors from her.   I was my Kaka's little girl and mentee who climbed trees and ran around and jumped, knelt while I ate, had frog's legs while she did not and could not be what I could and I am with my legs.  She showed me how while sitting down. 

How my mom loved her too!