Laney Mae was her name. I was only about eight years old when I knew Laney. Still today, she remains one of the most interesting persons I have ever met.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She lived in an old house that had never known paint, or if it had, had long since forgotten. It had a rusty tin roof, and an open-ended hallway ran down its center separating the kitchen from the rest of the house. Despite the fact that the house was old and lacking in modern features, it was charming, warm, and inviting. And it was most certainly exciting because Laney lived there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Many a Sunday afternoon I spent at Laney’s house. She had the most wonderful array of dolls and all their necessary accessories, all the things dear to a little girl’s heart. There were tiny clothes, shoes, socks, bottles, diapers, and assorted bags for carrying them. Laney and I would spend hours dressing and undressing these babies. We would pack the bags with bottles, diapers, and other essentials. Finally, wrapping the babies in tiny blankets we would be all ready for a shopping trip or for visiting a friend.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the front yard of Laney’s house several old cars were parked. Grass had grown up around them and some of the tires were flat. To the unimaginative eye, the cars looked as if they had been planted there and had long since cease to operate. As a matter of fact, they did not run at all, for anyone except Laney, that is. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
At some point during those Sunday afternoons Laney would announce that it was time for a vacation. Preparation for the trip required a great to do of gathering up babies, bags, and bottles. Then, dressed in her older sister’s lacy red slip and wearing a pair of her mother’s high heels, Laney would lead the way down the front steps of the old house, and out to one of the waiting vehicles in the front yard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Opening the back door, we loaded everything into the car. After checking one more time to make sure nothing had been forgotten, Laney and I would climb into the front seat. I road on the passenger side because Laney always drove. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
” I think we will go up to Florida,” she would announce. Florida was her favorite vacation spot (whether or not she had ever actually been there I do not know). Having made this destination decision, she would turn the key in the ignition. Then, she would carefully pull the gear lever into drive, and grasp the steering wheel with both hands. Leaning back, she would stretch a toe toward the accelerator and away we would go on the wings of Laney’s imagination.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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Laney Mae was her name. I was only about eight years old when I knew Laney. Still today, she remains one of the most interesting persons I have ever met. She lived in an old house that had never known paint, or if it had, had long since forgotten. It had a rusty tin roof, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","WB4WB4WP_MODE":"","WB4WP_PAGE_SCRIPTS":"","WB4WP_PAGE_STYLES":"","WB4WP_PAGE_FONTS":"","WB4WP_PAGE_HEADER":"","WB4WP_PAGE_FOOTER":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"This week's blog--The Lavish Life of Laney","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-639","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n