Redemption Read Online Free PDF Page B

wear. She made a lot of them, too; she loved to sew. Mee Maw and Paw Paw meant the world to me then. They constantly fussed over me, more than the Paulson side of the family did. My mother had four siblings who started having kids at about the same time. The Paulsons helped Mom as much as they could, but they had other grandkids. The Lannerts had a lot more money to spoil us with. They helped us with down payments on our houses. My parents were just starting out, but when we lived in Iowa, Missouri, and Kansas, we always had nice places. I remember big one- or two-story homes, usually four or five bedrooms, always with basements.
    Grandma and Grandpa’s most important purchase, to me at least, was a Winnie-the-Pooh play set I loved—and eventually shared with my baby sister. The set included a vinyl chair, tiny table, and toy chest. It was white with gold and red checked Winnie-the-Pooh bears. I still dream about that play set, maybe because I’m next to it in so many of these old photographs.
    From everything my mother says, all my needs were met and then some. Babies want to be dry, fed, and hugged, and I know that I was. I know for sure because I remember my mom taking such good care of my sister, and I remember how warm and close we all felt.
    Life was wonderful then, and I still get lost in the thoughts of that time. As a very young child, I could mentally hold on to comfort. I could reach for my parents. I could soothe myself with the blankies and stuffed animals they gave me. If they fought when I was a toddler, I don’t remember it. That stuff happened later. My babyhood was about bonding. We were a family there for a minute, through thick and thin. If my dad had a dark side, if he drank too much, I didn’t know. My mother shielded me from his moods—she did this for years, while she was still around. She would send me off somewhere or give me something special to play with. Ignorance is bliss. I even like to think that my dad didn’t drink much at that time. In my mind, he was a dad who was into his kids and wife—instead of alcohol.

A New Baby
    was two years old when Christy came along, and I was a proud big sister. We’d sit in our momma’s lap together, and I’d hold her hand. I’d hold her hand as often as she’d let me, and my photo album is proof. In one picture, we’re standing in front of the wood-paneled door to our house in Kansas—we had moved—and I’m leading her somewhere in my green and red polyester shirt with matching pants. She’s wearing a purple polyester pant-suit, both sewn by either Mom or Grandma Lannert. She has chubby little cheeks just like mine. We both have the exact same little mole on the right side of our faces. I loved Christy with all my heart.
    As she grew into a toddler, I’d hug her all the time. Christy was just so cute. Her blond hair was whiter than mine, and it matched her lightning personality. She never had a kewpie curl because she was born with thick hair all over her head. I had been kind of bald. She looked vibrant and healthy and perfect, even then. She smiled all the time, like nothing ever bothered her. She was so pretty that I called her my little doll. I’d just hold her and kiss her. That is, until she stopped letting me. She started shrugging and pushing me off. I was smothering her and making her feel like a little baby.
    As much as I tried, we didn’t always play together. We were two years apart, and some things—like our matching dolly carriages—were fun to play with as a team. But I didn’t want to play with the toy xylophone with her; I had outgrown it. And she wasn’t interested in my big-girl books. We played together half the time, and then we’d go our separate ways. I needed to be outside with other kids; Christy was more independent and often preferred to play alone. When we were together, one of our favorite things to do was make up games. For instance, we would put blankets on the floor and drive each other around on them