My birthday is October 14, and I have always like the fall colors, maybe because my birthday or something. I was born a right at what the older ones say is the turn of the century, 1904. My brother, James, was 13 and my sister was 10. I don't know what my parents thought about, my mother reminds me every so often that I was an accident. She was sure she was done having children and claims that night my Papa was drunk. I don't think he was, he was never one to drink. I don't know why she seems to hate my Papa so, but they are always arguing...but that is for another story.
My mother hired a Nanny for me. I saw mother for an hour a day, usually right before tea time, and after lunch. That way she could send me back upstairs to the nursery when she was ready for tea. Maybe she was sorry she had me, maybe she didn't want me at all, but I remember wanting to see her. I would get all dressed up and make sure Nanny had everything perfect, even the bow on my dresses had to be tied just so and my shoes polished until they shined. I would climb up on the couch and she would stroke my cheek. She would ask Nanny how I was that day, admonish me if I had been horrid, said I was good if I had a good day, pat my knee and then send me back upstairs. One time I think I tried to hug her, she stiffened, said we English never hug and promptly pulled me off and deposited me in Nanny's arms.
Papa was different, he would come into the nursery to see me. And spend time with me, he asked me about my day, either laughing or crying with me. He always had his arms out for hugs and would swing me around or toss me up in the air. He could only spend a little time with me, as he was soon called off for dinner. Whenever I was hurt or sick, Nanny would inform both of them. Papa would come, Mother always sent word that she wanted the best care, and would not stand for "the child crying in pain or laid in bed dieing".