solidarity

What I wouldn't give to go back, ten, thirteen, fifteen years, maybe.



To wake up and sit cross-legged in a chair, centrally located in Grandma's kitchen, eating the special kind of cereal that only she would buy for me, cinnamon and sugar sprinkling down the front of my pajamas as I chatter. Now that I'm older, my heart falls a little when I am awakened with a cup of coffee, and asked to join the adults at their table instead. I long for the little girl in pigtails who was the apple of her Grandma's eye.



It seems that time goes by slower than the hours on a watched clock, until one day, life has catapulted itself into the future, and you seem to be recalling fond memories at a steady pace.



On this land, the swing is still held in place by a now-frayed rope, and you can still walk the paths to the lake, picking up colored rocks and putting them gingerly in your pocket. When you were little, being in this place was like being at the biggest, most extravagant playground that was specially handcrafted for you and your tiny hands and feet. Shoes were optional, there were always sticks of strawberry gum in the drawer, and you felt a sense of contentment that only you were privy to. There were no boundaries and no trepidation. At the days end, you were allowed in the lavishly decorated front room, minding that you took off your shoes, to curl up with a book and bask in the glow from the open windows catching moonlight.



Too me, not crying is that feeling you get when you swallow water.



In retrospect, these memories are not a sad thing, but more like an overpowering sense of gratitude that this is all still a part of your life, if even from a different point of view. Strangely, at 26, I am still a child in her eyes, but equally an adult. I often consider that the changes in me perhaps bring tears to my Grandma's eyes as she watches me walk the path alone.



It stings, it suffocates, but it passes in due time.



I will still throw caution to the wind, and run across the narrow bridge to the island on the lake, and laugh and stumble over the bowed planks. I will stand ankle deep in grass, causing stirred bugs to swarm around me in droves, and fish through the tall marsh for frogs, and count the fireflies at night. I will gently rearrange the refrigerator magnets, and then put them back in the same order they have always been...for the past 26 years. It amazes me that time has not altered much here, except for the people who live, pass through, and always return.



I will always be mesmerized by this place and the peace it has brought me.