A blast from the past

My sister got engaged yesterday, and I am so excited for her. While we are not close by any means, it's still a separation from our family... you know, the whole marriage thing. Soon I'll have to be sharing all my sisters with their husbands' families, and I don't know if I'm ready quite yet for that. They're MY sisters, no amount of "in-law"ing can make them anyone else's. Selfish, I know. But I love them a whole heckuvalot.

This, mixed in with the fact that this Christmas Eve and Christmas Day will be completely different from every single other one in my past (aka- spent without my parents) is causing me to be a tad... well, a lot, sentimental. I'm sorry, I can't help it.

I'm trying to write a series of pretty pessimistic stories, actually, for my creative writing portfolio that is due next week. But I think this weekend is going to be spent writing and revising a new series for this portfolio. Here's the introduction:

I don’t remember how we came to be in possession of the Southwind. I can’t remember the day my Dad and one of his best friends brought it home. I remember that our family and his friend’s family owned it, but that was about all.
The RV sat next to our house when it wasn’t being used; right outside of my bedroom window. But a piece of it was my bedroom when we were on vacation. It was our home on wheels: each sister had a place to sleep as did Mom and Dad. It had a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room. It was everything you could want for a few weeks on the road. That home made for some of the best family memories I have.
I don’t remember much from my childhood, sadly. I remember enough to make my past worthwhile. I’ve met people who can tell me about dozens of moments from when they were four years old, whereas I can maybe place one, but I would probably be making it up. Nonetheless, the moments and memories I have are good ones. I know my childhood was great, I had a great family and still do, and we had a great many adventures. Sometimes these adventures would be in the woods surrounding our house, but more often than not they were in the woods and on the beaches we would visit while touring the midwest in our rig. The following is a collection of those adventures, as best as I can remember them. Sure, my parents will probably see this and question if any of these situations are even true, but to my knowledge, they are. But who knows how the mind of a young girl works...