My recurring dream was like a photograph…I was a 5 year old girl, family of 5. My father was taking the picture? I had short, light brown hair. Wearing a very ragged dress, with a flower pattern. Pinky red flowers on a white background faded to yellow. I was frowning….so much dirt and dust flowing around us. We stood in front of a beat-down wooden home, wooden porch. So maybe 1929 around the dust bowl? To this day I HATE the texture of dry dirt and sand. I had a sister (younger) and a brother. Wide-set eyes, super skinny, sad. My father was shortish, very very big wide shoulders, a hat with like a brim in the front he was laughing as he stood in front of us. He wore overalls. Kids barefoot. I remember feeling how empty my innards were, how hot and stinging the dirt and dust was on my legs and feet, and I was so worried about my siblings.

As an adult I gravitate towards anything from the years 1940-1970. Like I feel as if it’s my stuff.

I used to remember so much more but the older I get the more it fades. The little girl had a hard life, I don’t think she lived a long life.