Day Two: Those People

The second day in Connecticut my Mom and I started out by going for haircuts, and a quick trip to the grocery store (Mom wasn't too fond of the prunes). And then? Then we went to Target. Because what else is there to do on vacation but go to the same store I go to WHEN I'M AT HOME!

Gram needed a few things for the house so we took off. Mind you, I'm driving the whole time. And even though I've had my license for 10 years, they watched me like a hawk; commenting the whole time that "She's such a good driver", and "You're doing very well." And a part of me just wanted to say, "Well thanks, and while we're at it, watch me tie my own shoes!"

Wandering the aisles of Target we remembered that we wanted to look into getting my Gram a foam pad for her bed. The bedding aisles are full of lush fabrics and beautiful pillows all displayed nicely and neatly. We found the foam pads and were trying to get a feel for them through their plastic casing. No luck. With a glance left, and a glance right my Mom and I unzipped the package and began to pull the foam pad out. But it was stuck. Wound so tightly and packaged so perfectly that I had to hold the bottom of the bag, she the top and with firmly planted feet we pulled in opposite directions. Giggles. Eventually we pulled hard enough, and POP! The foam pad was perfect, just what my Gram was looking for. But there was a problem. Once the foam pad was out, it wouldn't fit back in. It lay on the floor in a defeated heap as we looked at each other. So I did what any responsible young woman would do. I grabbed one that was packaged and put the open one back on the shelf, turned my back and pushed my cart away.

Behind me echoed the incredulous laughter of my mother, and Grandmother. We are those people.

later that evening

After an INCREDIBLE hockey game (that we won), Mom, Gram and I headed back to the house. Mom made a fire and we curled up in the living room, lights off and just the glow of the fire to talk by.

As a child I would lay in my bed at my Gram's house listening to the soft voices of Mom and Gram laughing late into the night. It was always so comforting to fall asleep to their easy conversation. Something about it made me feel safe,and tucked into my warm bed I would drift off feeling whole, and happy.

Now that I'm older I get to stay up and be a part of their late night chat sessions. It's kind of like being inducted into a secret club. We meet by the light of a fire, hushed voices, and story telling. So long into the night we talked, and laughed. My Mom, and Gram told me long lost tales of the family I never got to meet, and memories I had long ago forgotten.

There's something inexplicably sweet about hearing the story of your life told by the people who were there, and who know you best. It's like gathering all of my years into a neat little pile and holding them close to my heart- feeling the love all over again. Some magic doesn't need stages, and mirrors. Some magic is in the still of night, and the glow of flames that dwindle to ashes...leaving only the warmth behind.