My daughter asked me about nutmeg this thanksgiving 2015; I don’t know why she asked, maybe because I don’t put much nutmeg in my pumpkin pie and my daughter’s friend didn’t finish her pie. When I think of nutmeg, a picture comes up; everyone sipping eggnog by the fireplace, being told it is one of those things I am to eat and enjoy. I don’t think I enjoyed it.

We were living in a house with a huge open dining area, vaulted ceilings and a fireplace at the far end.  The 8 of us sat on picnic style table and chairs, probably made out of plywood and cement blocks.  We made origami on Christmas morning; I remember coming down the stairs seeing the container  holding different sheets of colored paper and some animals already made.

We lived in a farm house with a pond we could ice skate on or slip and slide, surrounded by corn stocks and hills to slide down the snow with sleds. We 6 kids slept on the floor in sleeping bags and on New Years Eve 1969 he reached into my sleeping bag and touched me as no 7 year old girl should be touched. I heard the church bells ringing midnight, my dad is downstairs; somehow I know he won’t help!

Eggnog brought up a memory in my daughters mind; a family Thanksgiving dinner at my sister’s house.  My sister offered her a glass of eggnog.  I said “NO! don’t drink it!” My sister said,  “she is in my house, let her try it!” My daughter listened to us argue and drank away!

PTSD, Anxiety, Memories remembered or just felt, pass down from one generation to the next until God intervenes!