My grandmother's story
I am compiling a memoir of my grandmother, Hilda Reid. She died before I was born, but I feel like I know her. Here is a bite.
Everyone’s gotta have those reckless, care-free kind of days. I had reckless, care-free kind of years. Years where the two of us pretended not to age, pretended we had money to burn. We were the most popular couple in all of Lethbridge. You couldn’t tell Alvin was 8 years older than me, not with the crowd we hung out with. We didn’t abandon them, they abandoned us when they petered out and started staying home, having kids. We would just find a newer, younger, fresher crowd. With 10 kids in my family and 9 in his, we would pick another sibling until we were down to the youngest ones.
Having adventures outdoors was our favourite past-time. We would transform from city slickers to mountain men and women, pack up the model A with as much camping equipment and friends as we could fit, and head out to the Rockies.
“Come on darling, let me take your picture.” The day was windy and bright with huge puffy white clouds squished up against the mountains like cotton candy. Waterton Lake was choppy and cold and the boys were having bets to see who would dive in and dunk their heads under.
“What?” I gasped ,” I’m in a bathing suit!” the girls, Geneva and Cloe were giggling at themselves and their dates.
“Yah, I want to remember you in a bathing suit!” He winked and they giggled again, running up before I could stop them.
“We’ll be in the picture!” Cloe skipped over, knowing her boyfriend Rusty was watching everything.
“You can remember us in a swimming suit too” There was a very awkward silence, but Alvin snapped the photo anyways. I glared at him.
“Ok, ok! Now just you.”
“No, you have to be in it.” I wined, and the girls skipped over to him, pulling away the camera. Click. Click. Even now I see my frown in every one of those pictures. At least he didn’t take one of just him and my sisters. I’m slowly breaking him of that bad habit...