Mom is packing for our annual trip to the farm .
For me, growing up on Long Island, NY was great. The public schools were terrific. It was exhilarating taking field trips into the city. But the east coast had rules–both spoken and unspoken. How you dressed. What was considered acceptable conversation for a young lady. What fork you used. What your grades were.
My relatives in Rolla valued a sense of humor. Appreciation for a great story and the ability to tell a good one. No one cared how I dressed. They thought it was fine if I spent my days in a dreamy world of my own. As long as I was honest and didn’t whine. On the farm A stood for Alice .
I shed my ruffled dress and polished shoes ready to be that other me.
Today, I miss that other Alice.
Maybe I won’t comb my hair and I’ll sit with the cat.