Grand Memories

I remember when I spent my Saturday nights in my aunt's backyard. When the mud-pit was freshly carved and the water warm from a day in the sun. When the fire cast a glow over all and you could smell a roast smoking on the barbecue. When our music was blaring and we were singing and my uncle would strum his battered two-string guitar. It was at a time when life was not treating us too well. But in that moment, everything was good.

I remember when I was 10 and saw a Snickers bar sitting on the table. Without much thought, I took it and ate it. My dad was furious it had been stolen and demanded somebody 'fess up. I appointed myself detective to find the dirty scoundrel who had taken what was rightfully my dads! I gave him suspects and possible motives. Finally, I broke down in sobs and told the truth. It was I who had eaten that Snickers bar. And I remember him hugging me and chuckling softly, saying, "it's all right".

I remember the year that every Saturday morning, my mom would wake us up bright and early. We would go into the kitchen always to find an array of colored pancake batters. And every Saturday we would make rainbow pancakes for breakfast.

I remember when my nana came to visit after my cousin, Ben, was born. I was busy at my aunt's house cleaning, trying to make it comfortable for the new baby's arrival home. My nana decided she'd "help" me. I cleaned off the fireplace mantel, dusting and rearranging the picture frames. Funny, how I noticed that when I left the room, the frames would silently be moved back. I had already got the salute from my uncle to do whatever I pleased with the house, so I decided two could play that game. Every time I left the room to put something away, I would come back to find the frames quietly moved back. And again, every time I would move them back to the position I had originally had them. As I dusted, vacuumed, and cleaned, my nana sat on the couch quietly watching TV. The only time she got up was when my uncle came to check on us, where she promptly jumped up and exclaimed how her back hurt from all the work she'd been doing while I watched TV, and when she rearranged the pictures as I was out of the room. At one point, I turned in the livingroom doorway and she stood there. My nana hisssed at me, "you need to leave". As she shooed me out the door, I called my dad. He sternly told me one thing- Don't let her see you cry. She might have. Tears streamed down my face as I walked through half a mile of bramble to my aunt's hospital room. I showed up with scratches all over my legs from having to walk through the weeds. But within the hour the brothers arrived. And they told her that her visit was over; it was her time to leave. I remember my uncle turning to me and saying, "No one, treats you like that.".

I remember going to Applebees with my grandma and the cute waiter flirting with me. I laughed because for one, he was way too old, and two, it was in front of my poor clueless grandma! We got in the car, turned on the radio, and started talking about the food. Then she turned to me, smirked, rolled her eyes and said "God, that waiter would NOT stop hitting on you!". Some much for poor, clueless grandma...

I remember watching my mom pull up to the house and sit in the car for an hour before she came inside. Just sit there. And honestly, for a long time I didn't realize that wasn't normal.

I remember the late nights when the four of us kids would be piled in the back as we drove the route home that was so familiar, I could anticipate every bump. And I remember it was the wonderful moments when one of us four tired kids would start humming a song. And slowly, almost magically, that sleepy car would fill with music as we all started singing. Singing a song we had known so long, we couldn't remember when we learned it. A song that was warm and bright and kept that sleepycar towing its way home. I think in that way, the song was my family: a little off key and not always in sync, but warm and bright. A song established long before me; I had known it as long as I could remember. And though some words of the song I forgot, and had to pretend I knew with an extended hum, it was that song that always got me home.

Oftentimes I look at my life as just beginning. I focus on the million things I've never done. But sometimes, it's nice to look back on the grand memories I've lived.