As I turn onto Town Line Road I am instantly filled with memories and my stomach churns as my tires meet each familiar dip and noll. The smell of dust seeps into the car and fills my sinuses. As I reach the farm where I grew up (which my husband now farms), I slow to nearly a stop as I turn into the driveway. I am greeted by the memory of Todd barking me a greeting from the end of the sidewalk. Suddenly, I am consumed with visions of my past as if time itself applied it's brakes and entered reverse. I stop near the garage and envision Rob coming from the haymow with his basketball in hand. I consider walking up the sidewalk, pausing by the big pine tree. First I sense a vision of a sandbox filled with playful memories and then in a flash I sense my teenage self on the lawn mower eagerly rounding the tree engrossed in my thoughts or a popular 80's song. Next, I flash to see my whole family and perhaps friends shaded by the pine tree as we talk and laugh and enjoy each others' company. I can feel the cool grass on my toes and can hear the crickets chirping on a summer evening. I am drawn to more recent memories of the swing beneath the tree. I envision my children swinging there when they are small. I smile as I leave the tree and head toward the house. I catch myself wanting to peak around the corner to the patio to see if Mom or Dad or one of the boys are sitting there. I am brought back to reality when no one is there.
In my mind, I climb the front steps and open the squeaky screen door. I can hear my mother's voice calling from the kitchen "shut the inside door!" I chuckle to myself as the words seem so real. I have half a notion to hop up on the freezer to my right to enjoy a phone conversation with a friend. As I look ahead into the dining room I expect to hear the squeak of the closet door and see my Dad reaching inside. I can smell supper frying on the stove and I hear the lid of a pan rumbling as the potatoes quicken to a boil. As I enter the diningroom I can see my Mom through the phone nook above the desk. She is in the kitchen turning the steaks that are frying in the pan and flipping off the burner to the gas stove. I throw my coat on the loveseat and enter the kitchen with stories to share with my mom. My brothers, Adam and Rob are already there fighting me for her attention and I scramble past them for the last twizzler or nutty bar from the top of the microwave nearby. I hop up to the bar to continue my story. Mom hands me the plates to set on the supper table and I head to the other side of the counter. There I find my Dad sitting in his chair at the table with his head resting in his hand. I try to clear the cloud of smoke that encircles him as I set the table around his ash tray...
I invision my family at the table playing a game of cards. "500" was a family favorite for many years. "Kendra it's your turn!" I hear one of them yell ... "okay ... what's trump?" :-)
From there my memories peak through the kitchen door back out into the
diningroom where the stereo sits quietly ... in my memory a country
melody bursts from the stereo as my Dad sings along with "the man in
black". Sweat drips from a loose strand of his hair as he dances around
the room with a playful grin. He strums his fake guitar and croons the
words luring us into his world. Rob and I attempt to sing along as
Adam takes over the fake guitar with a smile. For a brief time, we are
giddy with love and drunk on life. Now the albums lie buried, but the
memories will not be forgotten. The songs are forever etched in my mind
and continue to play in my heart!
Through my tears, my memories envision my mother coming down the hall from the bathroom with a load of clothes to fold. She pulls up the diningroom table to make room for the clothes and warns my brothers to be careful. Suddenly I hear a bang on the stairway door as one of the boys hits it in an attempt to block the other from making a basket in the nerf hoop. As they finish the play, Adam reaches over and grabs me lifting me over his shoulder. I scream for mercy and plead to be let back down. As my feet hit the ground, my vision shifts to the boys and I near the stairs reading books we are pulling from the bookcase. I teach each of them to read from the "Happy Day's" Book and later we quiz each other on the order of the Presidents from the encyclopedia.
My memories draw me into the tiny room that once held the toy box as well as the piano. My fingers can feel the rough keys on the old piano as I play "one last note" to finish my song. Next I flash to a vision of my brothers pulling games from the cupboard to bring into the livingroom to play. I picture us playing Sorry or Clue or more recently Outburst or Taboo. I follow the memory into the livingroom. I envision Rob as a little boy as he lies on the floor in front of a basketball game on TV. He is engrossed in the latest VC Comic he is writing. I envision my Dad coming from the kitchen chewing on a slab of bologna as he slices an orange. I envision our whole family cozy in our chairs watching movies on the VCR we rented for the weekend. I flash again to the cozy feeling of the livingroom floor as I lie in my sleeping bag late at night while Mom and Dad watch the 10:00 news. I can still hear Craig Johnson's voice...
Memory after memory continue to flood my mind as I gaze around the house. I meander back outside and pick an apple off the tree. My lips pucker as I devour the juicy sourness and I wish I had a salt shaker. I grab a couple extra for the road and head back to my car.
Back in my car, the years race back to reality and I remember that I actually stopped by to bring supper to my husband who is working in the field. The kids yell "Mom, he is coming!" as we hear the sound of the tractor coming from the field. I wipe the tears from my eyes and smile at my kids. I wonder what parts of their childhoods they will envision when they are grown?
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