Secrets

Some babies did not make it, I discovered 48 years after my birth.

My parents married at the end of the second War To End All Wars. My father was there from the beginning to end and was hungry for family life. My mother was in love with the uniform.

At eighteen, Mom was dreaming of a family. At twenty-eight, Dad was eager to comply.

The family came...three girls in eight years. I always wondered about our age difference but never asked.

We are grown now. Mom is gone and we have since lost Dad to Alzheimer's.

Alzheimer's is not pretty but it has a way of breaking secret oaths.

There were others. My sisters and I had siblings that we knew nothing about.

As Dad cried reliving the past, my sisters and I understood. We named the grief we had glimpsed in our parents' eyes.

Our siblings, bundled in hand made quilts, were each laid quietly to rest where we never plowed. They were never named and never mentioned.

It was the way of the times.

Today I bring flowers and say "Hello, I am your little sister."