Life is a Dream in Itself
Rose Marie Rideout
October 2, 2004
Isn't it strange as a child how you see things in a different way. As a little girl I thought that everyday was the best and my whole life would be like a fairytale come true . I spent hours making plans for my future, what my career would be, who I would marry and how many children we would have. Oh the happiness that I would one day inherit was almost magical. My husband would be a hard worker always providing for his family and the children would be born happy and healthy and thankful for the life given to them as I grew up to be.
As a child I was born into a poor family, I hadn't realized it because my mother refused to use that word. She was forever thankful for the many gifts that were given to her and the family. We always seemed to have food on the table and clean clothes and a roof over our heads.
Mom did a lot of sewing and she baked all the time. She made every occasion a special one, one that would never be forgotten, while ouir dad hunted for moose and caribou along with setting snears for rabbits. This was our main source of food and it kept us fed and healthy.
Mom made sure our prayers were said every morning and every night before we closed our eyes. Our prayers consisted of many thanks for all we received through the day.
Mom taught us to be happy and loving people, as we got older that stayed with each of us and even through hard times we seemed to see the brighter side of things and we were more readily to accept what nhas been given to us.
I remember mom would tell us bedtime stories everynight and spend hours playing games with us. I often thought we were the luckiest children in the world. My favorite thing to pass time was to go through mom's old button can. She would have so much patience with me as I questioned her on every button, being a child I had to know where everyone came from. How many times I repeated this and everytime she sat there with patience. There were eight children in our family and she seemed to have time and love for each one, never letting one do without her time. How did she do it, we will never know.
She would sit in the rocking chair with one in her arms and two more on the sides of her as she listened to each one read and a few more on the floor in front of her as she asked them their spelling words, while others sat around the table doing their time tables. Back then we had to know our times in order to do our math.
Unlike the children today, we made our own fun and got plenty of fresh air and exercise. We liked to play marbles, hop scotch and almost everyone owned a skipping rope. We played tag till we couldn't run anymore. Spotlight was a favorite on a Saturday evening or a water fight was always clean fun. As winter cameon, it added more excitement. Now was the time for sleds and toboggans and making angels in the snow. We would get together and see who could make the biggest snowman and pray the sun wouldn't melt it.
It's a shame that children have to grow up because the world is a much better place with them in it. Children are so innocent and only know what they are taught. Children aren't born to know hatred or hurting of any kind. Those things are showen and taught to them as they grow into adults. If we as parents dream of a good life, why wouldn't we want our children to have their dreams as beautiful as ours. Why don't parents teach their children from birth to love one another, to help each other in the time of need, to always be there to wipe away a tear and help bring a smile to ones face.
Life can be a living dream of what we make it.
I wasn't poor because our mother never taught us that we were. We never went hungry because there was always bread and milk if nothing else in the house and we never went cold because there was always a broken chair to use as firewood, and we never hated because more then anything else in the world we had love and lots of it. We had the whole world and everything in it because we had God and our parents as our guides. YES LIFE IS A DREAM IN ITSELF.
Rose Marie Rideout
