Here’s my kindergarten picture. It looks so vintage that I can hardly believe I lived it. There I am, second-from-the-right on the third row, gazing out at life with my typical serious mien. Probably, I’m wishing I could have been one of the cute little girls chosen to sit on the benches (if you’ve read my memoir, this is sounding familiar). Or maybe I’m just lamenting my unfortunate dress, which I remember vividly. I opened it at Christmas and
burst into tears cried quietly: it had a tie! Ties were for boys!
There’s Mrs. Wintin, younger than I am now. You’ll be pleased to know that she’s still around, 42 years later. Having written to me about a lighthouse shoebox parade she remembered from her childhood, she now kindly invited us over to see the little lighted houses she has set out on her cozy porch.
Mrs. Wintin chatted with me, my mom, and my sister, while my own girls (now far past kindergarten age) played on the porch. Life goes on, but it’s a little more inviting when there are old friends around — and a little house with a light on doesn’t hurt, either.
Thanks, Mrs. Wintin!