I took the road.
That road I haven’t traveled in many years.
And it took me back forty years. I was afraid the road would seem smaller, the houses unfamiliar, and the area foreign. It wasn’t. It was more native to me than I had hoped. I knew when the road would curve, and go up, and I knew that farm, I knew when the road would split and which way to go. There was nothing that surprised me.
I felt guided, back.
I pulled up to the house. And there, standing in the doorway, was my friend from back before we grew up. And there, inside the door, was “Grandma Marie”. She didn’t look a day older than all of those days so long ago. But she is older. Forty years older. She’s in her nineties.
I asked her if she remembered me and she said yes, my face is the same. My friend and I both laughed when she said “but you’ve gotten bigger”. I’m still laughing about that.
It felt so good. Being able to go back in time. People say you can’t do it. But I did it today.
Back to a time when sitting around and talking was how you got your news and your gossip and your stories that made you laugh, made you sad, or made you raise your eye brows.
It was nice to sit with people who knew you before you became you. We knew one another long before today was even considered. Isn’t there that certain comfort, with certain people, that never changes. And going back to them, takes you to a time that does still exist, in your emotions.
It felt so good being there. With those people. In that time. That time that combines yesterdays and memories and sharing it today.
When I drove away I could feel the years adding up the further I drove, from days gone by, until I reached today’s reality.
It made me kind of sad.