good nanny team,” I say to Elizabeth as she changes little Amy’s diaper. Were both sitting on the bed, one on either side of the baby I help hold those wiggling legs still and hand Elizabeth what she needs from the diaper bag.
“There,” says Elizabeth as she snaps up Amy’s pale pink pajamas. “That should do it.”
“Aren’t these disposable diapers a wonder?” I marvel as I take the little bundle to the wastebasket in the bathroom.
“They’ve sure come a long way from when my kids were little. Those old disposables might’ve kept the baby’s bottom dry, but everything else would end up totally soaked.”
I laugh as I wash my hands. “I remember laundering cloth diapers the old-fashioned way. We didn’t even have a dryer back then, so I had to hang them on the line. In the wintertime I’d take themdown, and they would be frozen solid. I’d carry them into the house like a stack of giant crisp white crackers.”
“Oh, the good old days,” says Elizabeth in a teasing tone.
“You know, they
were
good.” I ease my old self into the chair across from the bed. “They weren’t easy, mind you, but they were
good.”
I sigh to think of how much things have changed. “Life was so much simpler back then.”
“Did you have a good marriage, Margaret?” asks Elizabeth suddenly.
I’m taken aback, not sure where this came from, but I answer her honestly. “It was good …and sometimes not so good …but mostly it was good.”
Elizabeth picks up the baby, cradling tiny Amy in her arms. “Tell me about the ‘not so good.’”
I study this young woman—well, young by my standards—and I wonder why she is so curious about my marriage to Calvin. After observing her at the luncheon, I suspect she’s having marital problems of her own. She seemed to be ignoring her husband. “It’s funny you should ask,” I begin, happy to share my tale with anyone willing to listen. “I was just thinking about my husband today—and missing him.” I sigh. “I suppose weddings do that to us, make us remember when we were young brides, when the world seemed so full of hope and great expectations. So long ago …”
“How long?”
“More than sixty years ago. Calvin passed on just before our sixtieth anniversary last year.”
“Wow, that is a long time.”
I smile. “Yes, that’s just what I was thinking today. Sixty years sounds so far away. We got married during the war. It seemed everyone was getting married back then. Calvin and I had been good friends in high school. We’d even dated a few times, but it had never been very serious. Then during the summer of ’44, he started coming by on a more regular basis. I knew he was going to be shipped off to the Pacific any day, and I also knew he was scared. Oh, he never admitted as much; men didn’t show their emotions much back then, but I could see it in his eyes. Boys had been coming home wounded and broken—or in coffins.” I pause as I remember how my older brother came home a mere shell of the robust young man he’d been when he left home only six months earlier. “The war was a very serious thing.”
“And so he proposed?”
“Yes. I was surprised, but at the same time not. And of course I accepted. We were married by a justice of the peace, and after only two weeks of married life, he was shipped off.”
“You must’ve been brokenhearted,” says Elizabeth as she gently rocks the baby back and forth on my bed. I can see that Amy is almost asleep now.
“I wouldn’t say ‘brokenhearted,’” I admit. “Of course I was worried for his welfare, but at the same time I was a bit overwhelmed at the whole idea of being married. I suppose I’d considered myself a somewhat independent girl. I’d been working in my father’s office and living in my own apartment. And suddenly, afterI was married, I was sharing that apartment with a man, as it turned out, I barely knew. Believe me, there was a lot of adjusting to be done on both
“There,” says Elizabeth as she snaps up Amy’s pale pink pajamas. “That should do it.”
“Aren’t these disposable diapers a wonder?” I marvel as I take the little bundle to the wastebasket in the bathroom.
“They’ve sure come a long way from when my kids were little. Those old disposables might’ve kept the baby’s bottom dry, but everything else would end up totally soaked.”
I laugh as I wash my hands. “I remember laundering cloth diapers the old-fashioned way. We didn’t even have a dryer back then, so I had to hang them on the line. In the wintertime I’d take themdown, and they would be frozen solid. I’d carry them into the house like a stack of giant crisp white crackers.”
“Oh, the good old days,” says Elizabeth in a teasing tone.
“You know, they
were
good.” I ease my old self into the chair across from the bed. “They weren’t easy, mind you, but they were
good.”
I sigh to think of how much things have changed. “Life was so much simpler back then.”
“Did you have a good marriage, Margaret?” asks Elizabeth suddenly.
I’m taken aback, not sure where this came from, but I answer her honestly. “It was good …and sometimes not so good …but mostly it was good.”
Elizabeth picks up the baby, cradling tiny Amy in her arms. “Tell me about the ‘not so good.’”
I study this young woman—well, young by my standards—and I wonder why she is so curious about my marriage to Calvin. After observing her at the luncheon, I suspect she’s having marital problems of her own. She seemed to be ignoring her husband. “It’s funny you should ask,” I begin, happy to share my tale with anyone willing to listen. “I was just thinking about my husband today—and missing him.” I sigh. “I suppose weddings do that to us, make us remember when we were young brides, when the world seemed so full of hope and great expectations. So long ago …”
“How long?”
“More than sixty years ago. Calvin passed on just before our sixtieth anniversary last year.”
“Wow, that is a long time.”
I smile. “Yes, that’s just what I was thinking today. Sixty years sounds so far away. We got married during the war. It seemed everyone was getting married back then. Calvin and I had been good friends in high school. We’d even dated a few times, but it had never been very serious. Then during the summer of ’44, he started coming by on a more regular basis. I knew he was going to be shipped off to the Pacific any day, and I also knew he was scared. Oh, he never admitted as much; men didn’t show their emotions much back then, but I could see it in his eyes. Boys had been coming home wounded and broken—or in coffins.” I pause as I remember how my older brother came home a mere shell of the robust young man he’d been when he left home only six months earlier. “The war was a very serious thing.”
“And so he proposed?”
“Yes. I was surprised, but at the same time not. And of course I accepted. We were married by a justice of the peace, and after only two weeks of married life, he was shipped off.”
“You must’ve been brokenhearted,” says Elizabeth as she gently rocks the baby back and forth on my bed. I can see that Amy is almost asleep now.
“I wouldn’t say ‘brokenhearted,’” I admit. “Of course I was worried for his welfare, but at the same time I was a bit overwhelmed at the whole idea of being married. I suppose I’d considered myself a somewhat independent girl. I’d been working in my father’s office and living in my own apartment. And suddenly, afterI was married, I was sharing that apartment with a man, as it turned out, I barely knew. Believe me, there was a lot of adjusting to be done on both
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