This post is for Wk 62 of Tara's Gallery. Click here to see the other entries...
I'm lucky enough to have quite young parents. I was born when they were still practically children; my mother was 23, and my father 25. I can't imagine what they would have said had I gone home at either of those ages and announced that I was even setting up home with someone (looking back, I had neither the maturity nor the experience to do so), let alone that I was going to have a baby. However, times were different back in the 1960's, and they married young, as most of their friends did, and got on with family life; within a year of their wedding, I was born.
Now I'm a mum myself, and even though I didn't get around to that until 13 years later than my mother did, the benefits of having younger parents are still paying off, for me. One of them is that they are still hale and hearty, and that despite my sons' increasing size, my father is still able to make memories for them like this one; being wheeled down through the coombe near Gran and Grandad's house in a wheelbarrow...
