I am at a Family Reunion, the Sanders side, I think, lots of cousins and small children and babies. Some of the small children are very active and noisy and as much as I love being around them; it is hard. Now I am sitting behind Aunt Abigail and somebody talking to someone, maybe my father. I watch as Francis P hides behind a door and watches as Delilah comes in to ask if Francis got a present. I laugh and whisper to my father, "Isn't that something, how he sent his wife in to ask for something?" Abigail turns around and I peer closely at her bright hazel eyes. They are intense and quite pretty, with many golden flecks of color. I laugh, a bit uncomfortably, feeling caught. I say, "You sure are pissed at me." She says, "You don't like them, do you." They are too rowdy for you. I feel embarrassed and try to fix things with a bit of a white lie. I say, "Well, that's true, we aren't the same kind of people, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy them the one day of the year we see each other. I thought it was kind of cute." This mollifies my Aunt and I am relieved, for she was as intense as a mother bear protecting her cubs. The reunion goes on and now I am watching my father's montage TV screen, a special machine to create a montage of past events. He had already edited the reunion footage and added a narrator's voice, his own voice, to it. I see myself in a pretty dress, low bodice and a small waist. I look good. I am wearing a pretty wide brim hat and posing with smiles. Then I am playing a silly role of a very fat or pregnant woman in the same dress. Then I am riding one of the small horses, not Ginger. I am riding the brown one and I see myself from the back end as the horse trots and then playfully gallops. I ride her through a sprinkler. It is fun and we stop to soak up the cool water. A pinto horse is named Ginger. The noisy child that is hard to be around likes the horses.