What My Mother Forgot: 3 Years Old

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My family moved from Ohio to Michigan when I was around a year old. My grandparents always told me the story about coming to get me and bring me to their house. They said I was such a good baby. That I nearly slept the whole time, and I only cried once, and all they had to do was take me out of the car seat and hold me for a little bit. It was the 80's, car seats were questionable, new-fangled contraptions for them.

I'm not sure why my grandparents came to get me and not my little Brother or why I traveled ahead of my parents. My Mother always said it was because I was their favorite. 

We lived with them, my grandparents, at the Baldwin House. The four of us slept together in one huge room, which we'd later call the Johndro Bedroom after my Grandparent's dear friends who visited often. My Grandma was the society type. Apparently, those folks named their rooms.

Sheets hung over ropes that divided mine and my Brother's side from my parents.

My Dad's siblings lived there too, my Aunt and Uncle. My Aunt slept in the Back Bedroom and my Uncle in the Breezeway.

And you'd think that meant we all lived on top of one another, but we didn't. The house was huge, a sprawling ranch perched atop a hill, nestled in the woods on 40 acres.

Plus, everyone worked. My Dad in a job shop. My Aunt for a local non-profit, my Uncle for a local manufacturer, my Grandpa an attorney, and my Grandma, a reporter for the local newspaper. My mom stayed home with us. My Brother and I.

But for now, my Uncle was home. He stepped on a stick in the yard and broke his foot. Until he healed, he was home during the day too.

One day, my Uncle took us grocery shopping. It was about a 10-minute drive in my Mother's rusty, grey Oldsmobile. My Brother (then 2) and I snug and strapped into our car seats.

On the way home, we fell asleep. 

Then it was hot. Unbearably hot.

I woke up. My little brother was still asleep. Drool dribbled down his chin. We were strapped in our car seats. But no adult up front. Just us.

I screamed, and I screamed. I started banging on the window. My little brother woke up, and he screamed too.

Eventually my Mother came. She looked frantic and almost angry. She opened the door and let us out.

I asked her why she had left us in there.

And I can't remember what she said, but I remember feeling like I was in trouble.

Like I had made a big deal out of nothing.


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