One stop on the memory train

I read a post today that transported me

That happens quite often doesn’t it?

To all of us?

We’ll hear a tune drifting out the open windows of a passing car and no longer are we standing on a hot sidewalk in line at the ATM, but magically taken to an ‘out of school for the summer’ beach trip with our best girlfriends, laughing and flirting while sand filled our shorts and Sun-In made us all one shade of blonde or another.

Or we’ll catch a smell in the air that immediately takes us back.  Maybe to a warm and tiny kitchen in the back of a house shared with the post office; where a grandmother is frying donuts in a big cast iron pot and where too, the back porch isn’t just a place to take off your muddy boots before tramping into Gram’s small but tidy nook…but a place where Gramp sits grinding fresh horseradish, tears rolling down his stubbled cheeks as easily as the sweat pours off his shiny bald knob.

And there are times, we’ll read something, like Tink’s post today, that’s like peeking into that too-long forgotten toy box in your mind’s attic…the one where you keep all your found treasures and best memories of childhood…waiting for a day like today.

Sometimes, these trips down memory lane can cover us in a cloak of sorrow or pain, bringing us back to a time and place we’d rather not go back to, for one reason or another.

Other times, happily I think most times, the places we go in our mind are…

…the places we want to be and in the company of people we want to be with.

This is where I went today, when the toy box opened…with thoughts of long candy counters and a shop owner with the patience God gives older folk…

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It sits there still, where it always did.

Across the road from my where my grandparent’s lived, and up two from where I did.

One of two one-room shops in our town of less than…

where one holds the memories of a barrels of chocolate drops, returning bottles for a penny, wood smoke, and men laughing.

while the other is made of children’s dares and double dares to see who’ll go buy the ice cream from the ‘mean old lady’ behind the counter.

And this is who joined me in today’s trip…Gramp in his engineer’s cap and Gram looking the same as everyday I can remember.

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And though this is where they are now…

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Their permanent home is here…always here…

love

I thank Tink and her Crazy Train for the ride today.  It was welcome and reminded me that I have enough in my heart and my mind to get me through whatever life wants to throw my way.

And maybe someday, when he’s older or I’m gone, this one will hear or see or smell something, some small thing, that will take him back to a time when he knew he was cherished.

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The Laddie is a Tramp

I cannot, in all honesty, say it thrilled me when I heard the kids had gotten a Trampoline.

With a 12-year-old and 3-year-old on that behemoth bouncy bone breaker, I had visions of head wounds and little fingers and toes caught in the webbing, and mid-air collisions that would result in trips to the emergency room.

However, never let it be said that Grammy Rhoni is not one to ‘give it a chance’.

So, on many a morning during our recent trip to almost heaven…I sat with my trusted and constant companion and just watched.

I’m glad I did and hope you can see why.

My laddie is definitely a TRAMP!

The hours of laughter, sweat, and no tears are worth every wrinkle the idea of this thing gave me!

The hours of laughter, sweat, and no tears were worth every wrinkle the idea of this thing gave me!

my turn

I observed big Alex having as much, if not more, fun than the little Alex dude
But he DID get his turn!

running

What heart wouldn’t melt at seeing the end of such a time?
Mine sure did.
What a sight!

So…I guess the lesson here, for all you Grams and Gramps out there…look before you leap; to conclusions that is.

Supervision, common sense, and a love for life is all that’s needed to make this a safe place to be a TRAMP!

🙂

687 Miles to Sloppy Kisses…

It’s been over a year and a half since I’ve seen my grandson Alex, who turned 3 in April.
I can think of nothing I’d rather do than share the next few days with you as we get reacquainted and fall in love all over again…

The Journey:

flag collage 1

The first 200 miles
Old Glory flies high and
Gas prices do too
140 miles more before we leave the high cost of living in the Northeast behind…

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The layover at halfway
Storm on the horizon
Unwanted voyeurs
One who is thankful for the break.
345 miles to go for sloppy kisses…

Water, water, everywhere...and not a drop to drink! Oh...and a windmill.

Water, water, everywhere…and not a drop to drink!
Oh…and a windmill, of course.
300 miles more to giant hugs from little arms

farm country collage

Tooling down the Blue Ridge Parkway headed for the home stretch
Silos and Barns growing out of the Corn
and oh….
Crackin’ the Barrel on every corner!
200 miles and we pop the top and pull the cork.

The Kudzu Climbs The Gas Prices Fall And the Caverns are Cavernous!

The Kudzu Climbs
The Gas Prices Fall
And the Caverns are Cavernous
100 more to their front door.

The first hello is always shy...but give him time, our little guy.

The first hello is always shy…but give him time, our little guy.

play ball collage

Next thing you know they’re playing ball
Basketball, football, soccer and all
Running, shooting, fetching, “no fair!”
I’m goin’ swimming…hop in gram, we’ll share.

So ends the first day…worth the trip and worth the  heat.

Stay tuned for the next installment…getting down on the trampoline then popsicle parties and bubble magic.

🙂