A Swanson Memoir
I’ve decided to let you all know heart and soul of the real Anna Swanson. Let’s start at the beginning-no, before the beginning; a very good place to start.
My father and mother were longing for the perfect child, but sadly they were disappointed four times, until one day they had reason to hope again. I remember the conversations my mother and father had while I was still in the womb. They kept saying this could finally be the one, but they didn’t want to get their hopes up too much, yet. But they still had an unexplainable feeling of eagerness. Even my four older siblings were excited. They called me “Little Queen” even though they didn’t even know I was a girl yet. God must’ve given them a glimpse into the future. Not much happened while they were waiting. Well, what exciting things really could happen before I was born? So after a while I decided I should bless my family with my presence even though I was happy where I was. I’ve always had that gracious spirit from the start. That’s why my parents named me Anna, which means “gracious one.” So on the day I was birthed, I decided to get it done quick-to bless my mother and because I felt it was needless to stay in there for a long time when I was coming out anyways. So when I came out into the cruel world that I was about to make a better place, my dear mother declared with a shout, “This is the one we have been in long wait for!” and she raised me high into the air. It was truly a great bonding moment for my mother and me. I praise my mother for carrying me — the wonder child — for nine months.
My early years were pretty swell. Life was just dandy. Everyone was obsessed with me — the golden goddess baby. Everyone was holding me, bouncing me on their knee, and just plain fawning over me. The only problem was my embarrassing baldness, but the rest of me was so darn cute they all looked past the minor flaw. Unfortunately my glory days didn’t last very long. When I was just three years old my mother was diagnosed with my sister. You are probably thinking why my parents had another child when I was the one they really wanted. Well, I can easily answer your question. My younger sister, Rachel, was an accident. My parents refuse to admit it, but I can see it in their eyes. The disappointment, the shame, the regret, the contempt, it’s all there, but I digress. Rachel was just a minor setback in my path of glory. When she was birthed, they were happy I guess, but they knew they already had the apple of their eye. Rachel was just one more baby.
I saw Rachel as a young student who needed a strong leader to guide her through life’s rocky way. I knew no one was worthy to mentor a blank slate but me. So I did what I had to and stepped in and assumed position as shepherd to the young innocent life. I knew it was big shoes to fill, but I treaded and marched on with Rachel every step of the way, and single handedly raised that once funny-looking-baby-with-the-big-head to the young woman standing beside me today. I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t easy, but when life was rough I kept telling myself, “The best view comes after the climb.” She rebelled, but I stood firm. She tried to give up, but I pushed her forward. She fell down, and I picked her up. I sacrificed for her. I taught her right from wrong and showed her how to become a classy lady. She’s far, far from her finish line, but I’ve guided her through the hardest parts. I only have a couple years left to mentor her until I leave for college and hand my life’s work over to my mother to finish job. I could go on and on about the things I’ve taught my young student, but this time it’s about me. I’m here to tell you my story. To be continued…