I was the oldest cousin in a rather large family, and often spent weeks in the summer with various grandparents and aunts and uncles. One of those aunts was my Aunt Barb, who married a farmer, and when I was young, lived in two rooms on the second floor of her in-laws’ house. During that time, there was no bathroom, only an outhouse, no running water, and she was raising three young girls in those rooms. As I reflect on this part of her life, I am astounded that she let me visit for at least a week at a time, and we had such fun. I had always had in-house plumbing in my own home, and my own bedroom, but I don’t remember being crowded, or missing a bathroom. What I do remember is swimming in her pond, picnics down by the creek ending with servings of her yummy chocolate cake, and reading stories at night before bedtime. She was a dramatic reader, and I loved hearing her read from the books available. Taking care of her chores, both inside and outside; along with mothering her children that included sewing all their clothes, and cooking amazingly wonderful meals can’t have been accomplished easily in her circumstances, yet she made me know that I was a loved niece and welcome always in her home. As a housewife who has griped about unloading the dishwasher, I wonder about her resilience, and about mine. How did she accomplish so much with so little? It’s a reflection to ponder.