the middle

The best part of a sandwich is without a doubt the middle.  Be it peanut butter or creamy egg salad the middle definitely determines the enjoyment outcome.  Wholly responsible for the deliciousness factor whilst bread a key structural component clearly a more trivial supporting player.  I was utterly dominated living in the shadows of my siblings – I was stuck in the middle.

Not the golden beribboned first born to my mother eldest of six and significantly the only grandchild and niece for several years a most definite advantage to those who trotted begrudgingly in her dusty tracks.  I arrived next.  Next not first not youngest but rather one of a familial gaggle of nexts, and never much ballyhooed or coddled.  I possessed no special talents or powers that caused an eye to linger I was simply their second child.  With another on the way.  Nipping at my heels like a six week old puppy abound with unbridled zest for life the youngest joined our brood and I might add with a decided amount of disdain not quite a year following.  

Thus in my prime attention seeking years where my cues for social interaction and confidence were to be shaped and nurtured I was bereft of any hard core parenting a rather forgotten curb side sack.  Oh I am certain I mattered in my middle sort of non-pretentious undemanding way.  A somber acquiescence driving this introvert’s self-sufficient foray into adulthood. The eldest was delivering firsts by the fistful and I could claim only an occasional blue ribbon.  My firsts would always be seconds.

Borne of this a passion for reading and self-discovery, enjoyment of all music and the spinning of yarn nourishing a creative spark and wonderment.  It is when we discover who we are beyond societal labels no longer first or middle but instead our personal voice.  I am mother and writer and analyst.  I am friend and lover.  I love to laugh.  I cry easily care too much.  I live to dance.  I am sister both big and little.  I own the middle.