Something in the air

I live near my childhood home. 7 miles from home to be exact.

I was pitching in last night to let the dog out while my parents were away. It was that beautiful twilight time of day...a humid but cool Summer evening. My kids were safe in their beds while big daddy was doing stuff at home. I had some good tunes going with my windows open and I was immediately transported back at least a decade. That car ride filled me with the carefree feeling I had for all of my teenage years and early 20's.

Once at home, I took my old man childhood dog out and ran around the back yard with him. For brief moments, I really could have been 16...except both the dog and I are a bit more haggard then when I really was 16. To be honest, the dog is more haggard than *I* am...of course!

I went in my quiet home....rifled through the fridge to see if they had anything good and sat at the kitchen table. I could almost see and hear my grandmother sitting in her chair in her room with the TV squawking loudly. I closed my eyes for a minute and could feel the heat from all of her bedroom lights, see the paper clutter on her little table, neatly organized in piles. I really wanted to ask her if she had heard any good celeb dirt today. I wanted to brag on my babies.

While I was sitting at the kitchen table I saw a checkbook. Being nosy as I am, I picked it up and flipped through it. It was my grams check register. No checks, but her neatly balanced register in her distinct handwriting. I read each line like it would mean something. 'Gift for Mama Sarita....ATM withdrawl...Blair's....Lodge Dues.

There was an abrupt blue line where the handwriting changed to my mother's script. The things started to be sad purchases .... The Eatery (catering for the funeral reception), something monuments....Church....medical bill payments.

Even though she has been gone for 2 years this week, my bigger than life gram's presence is greatly missed. I want to hear more scandalous stories about island life 50 years ago. I want to talk about how Tom Cruise has totally flipped his shit...and what a damn shame it is for someone who is so good looking. I want to know my Gram's theories about what the merits and drawbacks of Scientology are and how that has played a role... I want to play devil's advocate when my gram blathers on and on about the greatness and wonder of the almighty Oprah...you know, the important life conversations.

I want to learn how to decorate a cake....what did she leave out of the instructions for the family birthday cake?? I want to bicker with her a little. I want her to be in awe of her great grandchildren like she was when we all lived together for Diva Child's first year of life. I wish she could have met Man Puppy. I want to sit at the kitchen table with her....her in her seat, mine across from her as we drink coffee and talk about how its too damn sunny in the kitchen.

The evening was such a sensual experience. Between the perfect temp of the air, the light of the end of the day, the smell of my childhood home, and seeing my gram's handwriting, I may have believed that I had fallen back into time. Gram was gone at a lodge event, my parents were out ...Dad at a baseball game, my mom doing some mom thing....my brother was out with friends, and I had stopped home to shower and change before a night out on the town flirting and laughing with friends.


It is amazing to me just how close we are to a different time and place; how quickly it is all recalled and felt. I wonder if I will feel the same reckless thrill at age 75 when driving down the road on a summer evening; windows down & music cranking?