It is Thanksgiving 1953. Our little country house is brimming with activity. I feel safe. My Aunt Jessie has been living with us. She has been taking care of me and my three oldest siblings. Mom is coming home from the hospital today. Just for the day they say. The Salvation Army lent Daddy a wheel chair. The ambulance arrives. I see her being lifted out and into the chair. Little did I know, that chair with the wheels would be with her for #life. I wasn't sure it was her. Polio had taken it's toll. Her suffering was obvious even to me as a very young child. By late afternoon I felt a sense of belonging to her again. Everything had changed yet everything seemed alright again. My Dad was 7 years older then my Mom. They had met when his older brother married her older sister. Walter walked with a limp. He remembers a time in his childhood of much pain and fever, but no one ever had an explanation of what happened to this little boy. Hell, they hardly saw a Doctor for anything. His father died when he was 4. His mother who was left with 6 kids chose boyfriends over her children. From what I understand they brought themselves up. He worked with Circuses for many years traveling and setting up tents. They started seeing each other. He was so handsome, She was so inocent. When he asked her to Marry him he had seen a Doctor beforehand and been told he may end up crippled at some point in his #life. She married him with the idea that if this happend they would still have the family they prayed for and a little farm in the country. He told her he may not be able to dance,she said it would be fine. Now it was her that could not dance.may not