Remembering: Being Seven

I almost learned to knit in primary school.
My mother took very small needles and very fine yarn and cast on a row of stitches.
The stitches were so tight that it was difficult to wedge the needle into the stitch.
She knitted a row. The knitting was curling. She gave up in despair.

I learned again when I was a teen and much later as a mother.
Another story for another day.
It tickles me that my mother wanted no part of knitting.
I am rarely without knitting needles... a project at hand.

I was seven in 1945.

World War ll ended.
I made my first communion.
My mother almost died.
The atomic bomb was part of our reality.

I loved movies. Any movie with Margaret O'Brien.
I learned to blow bubbles with bubble gum.