I could talk about my personality. But honestly, I was outgoing, fun, friendly, popular, pretty, active and flirty. Nothing's really changed there.
How about this one. When I was in grade 4 I spent every other night at my mom's feet in the livingroom. The tv would be on or the radio would be playing and I'd be fresh out of the bath. I'd have on my housecoat overtop of my jammies and I'd be holding a handful of pony tail holders. She'd just sit there, talking to me about my day, dividing my hair into sections to braid so that I could sleep with about a dozen wet braids and wake up with pretty long kinked hair in the mornings. Mother-Daughter time doesn't get much better than that.
Or there were the times when we'd go visit my mom's best friend and she and Murielle would sit there in the kitchen and play guitar and I would sit on the floor and sing "The Rose", or "Fraulein" as they played while the moon shone over us. I guess I just picked up the lyrics from listening to the on tape or from my mom teaching them to me with the melodies. I still love to sing today.. though with various things having happened to my lungs and my throat, I don't really have the ability to sing like I used to.
Or how about when I was a kid, my parents were divorced and I recall countless numbers of trips my father would make from Vegreville to Athabasca or Lacombe to pick us up. The countless trips meant countless conversations with my sister and my dad in the vehicle on the way back to his house and on the way home. We'd talk about boys alot. We talked about drugs and other peer pressures. Dad said to me "I don't care if you want to try drugs, but you have to do me one favor first. Before you try anything at all, I want you to read the book "Go Ask Alice" and then you can decide whether drugs are something you want to try or not." I read that book and I never touched a drug. Still haven't to this day (aside from alcohol). When I read it, I didn't know it was fiction. The writing seemed real and probable. So I learned from it.
You know... I might have come from a "broken home" but I sure felt loved and I never felt like I was broken at all.
Maybe some other time I'll tell you the sorts of shenanigans I got myself into sneaking out late at night. Or maybe not. My mom reads my blog from time to time. ;p