My great-grandma kept a portrait of Jennifer in the guest bedroom room that someone had painted for her from a photograph. She was wearing a white jumper with little red flowers and her thin brown hair was parted into two piggy-tails resting on her shoulders. Her blue eyes were dull. The corners of her mouth were barely turned up and it was hard to make out a smile on her young face. She was two-years old and her young little face was forever frozen in that moment. The original photograph was taken a few weeks before she died. Her mother was driving down a grave road and rolled the van. Little Jennifer flew through the windshield and was killed instantly.
Jennifer was my mother's sister and she would have been my aunt.
I'm her namesake. :)
I will definitely keep her name in my family and someday I'd like to make her name, the middle name of one of my kids. It's important. And I'm glad that car seats have improved since the 70s and I'm grateful.
|I'm the little short one, the coat I'm wearing belonged to Jennifer. The older girl is my sister, Stephanie. Don't judge me; I was a chubby child. :)|