Late 50s: I was a Middle Child. Just a middle child. Special in that way. I was a middle child, by default. One of seven, the fourth in line, the first boy. Oh glory, a son to take over the farm! That never happened. But not really and truly in the middle, not the only one in the middle. By default, I became the middle child of seven, when there really were only six. Default. Whose fault?
Late 60s: Middle, muddle, all in the mix. Pitter patter, what’s the matter? The oldest sister changed the order by an act. She became a mother when in her early teens. What to do? Where to go? The parents said that she and her unborn baby would always be loved and would stay in the family home. The family first, to hell with what people thought! The family would have a new baby. She would be special. She would have a home and a family. Within a few years my oldest sister left home; she could not bear being a teenage unwed mother. She wanted her wings; she took to flight. The baby was raised by my parents. My niece became my sister.
Late 90s: By then both mother and father had passed away, before their time. I was still a middle child, with three siblings older and three siblings younger. A middle child by default. Middle, muddle, get in a huddle, there are storm clouds on the horizon! Tick tock. Time is passing. Click clock. Time passes. Lives pass over to the other side. Too soon. Still a middle child, but now one of four. I was a middle child.
Comments