Okay, so here am I ~ hanging out in the country of Economy Borough, being born and raised in the small town of Rochester, Pennsylvania, who is usually in a large city in Southern California ~ just chilling and trying to get my life back together after the death of my one and only brother. It truly has been a trip down memory lane. I've seen family members who I haven't seen since my mom died 22 years ago. A trip to the cemetery to my parents' and brother-in-law's graves to place flowers from Bub's funeral. I spoke with my childhood neighbor whom I haven't heard from since high school. Monica is living about an hour south of here. Her brother, who lives in Rochester, called her and told her about Bub. She called information looking for me and Nanny. Found Nanny's number, called it, and got to talk with me. Then today, Nanny cut the grass. I know this sounds ridiculous but the grass smells different here when it is cut. This triggered memories of the grass being cut on the farm (that means 8 acres). Nanny's trailer and grass area is much smaller. Then the blessing of an hour alone and away from kids, family, etc. was given to me by my dear sister...so what do I do? I get in the car and drive. I drove past the home I grew up in: the one next to Monica. How different it is! Mom always had it painted a shade of mauve with dark trim. Now it's light pink with white trim. The garage and driveway are gone. Now there's more yard and a gravel parking spot in place of the garage. Instead of stairs to the right of the house going halfway up the hill from Chestnut Street, there's a full set of stairs straight up the middle of the yard. I drove through the neighborhood and, of course, recognized no one. I was just some lost stranger people stared at as I drove through their lives and homes. It is a place with character: each home is different from the one next to it. There are no fences or sidewalks; the yards just blend together (although the hedges mom planted between McBride's and our house have totally overgrown and now there is no walkway between them). I remembered the exact spot I fell off my bike in the dirt alley and skinned my left knee ~ two times, now mind you, in the same spot... I drove past Aunt Mary's and Teny's in Freedom, my alma mater, Grandma Daman's, and the church where I accepted the Lord as my Savior. Then I went down to Big Lots which used to be Kmart and Shop N' Save. One of my coping strategies for grief and depression is shopping...Not good on a budget. Thankfully, I was able to restrain myself this time. Memories flood my mind so quickly and the tears begin to well. Tears of joyous times together. Tears of past trials and struggles. Tears of grief and sorrow of days gone by. Oh, for another time to speak with family members who are no longer here on earth. Just to hear their voices one more time...
I wonder what the next three days hold as I wait to join Glen in Columbus and head back to Southern Cali.
