ellensagh

60. My Ten Year Old Picture

I am looking at it. I guess I need to call it my picture when I am about ten years old. The photo is nearly fifty years old as I am nearing sixty.

At ten, I am a farm girl. The barn is in the background along with my dad’s dreams of being a farmer. My three older brothers and five younger sisters are constant around me. My mom is pregnant again and this time will miscarry.

I am the oldest girl. I feel like the housewife and mother. Sometimes my back hurts from carrying water; carrying the slop pail and carrying kids. I know how to peel potatoes; make porridge and pull weeds.

I love it outside. I love it when the neighbors come to play. We play anti-i-over; pump, pump pull away and kick the can. Sometimes I take long walks or hide in the bush so I can be by myself.

I belong to 4-H this year. I am going to learn to sew. My cousin took this photo for her 4-H project. My cousins come near every Sunday. If we know they are coming, we have chicken for supper. Then we have creamed corn for dinner.

Yesterday we all had baths and last night we polished all the shoes for church. This morning the eleven of us headed to church in the station wagon. We have to go early and line up against the wall for confession. Dad takes up the collection basket.

The green pump in the porch is working as we all get ready for church. I was able to ride with Dad the last time we filled the cistern.

Monday Mom will wash clothes. It takes her all day with the wringer washer; the bluing in the rinse tubs; and the piles and piles of clothes. When I get off the bus, I’ll be hauling in clothes from the line; and bagging bread as she makes twenty-seven loaves at a time.

I’m in grade four this year. One of the first days of school, the teacher strapped a boy really hard. I listen really well. I am learning to play the piano. I hope I can chord like Mom and play with Dad when he takes out the fiddle.

Did I say how much I love to be outside? In winter we skate on the dugout. In summer, I love to hide in the bale pile or go get the cows. I lay in the pasture for hours; smell the sweet grass and watch the clouds in the sky.

I think about God a lot.

                                      March 5, 2012

—-Ellen Sagh

summer:  306 382-5204
winter      480 373-1734
writings:   ellensagh.com

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