A Lifetime of Memories in a Moment

As I drive down the road, I think about where I'm heading, and grin. I haven't been to this place in so many years I'd almost forgotten how to find it. Forty minutes later, I pull into the driveway of my grandparents' house. Their house was renovated in 1973 before this area became a city. This house brings back fond memories as I look at it, and I sigh with happiness as I head to the front door. Even the trees are the same, albeit taller. I smile as I see the last remaining flowers of my grandma's garden struggling to stay alive despite it being close to October. Overall, when I wandered the neighborhood and saw the same houses, visited some of my older friends, everything felt right. Now, as I push the doorbell and hear the familiar high-pitched ding-dong, anticipation overwhelms me. Minutes pass, and no one answers the door. I ring the doorbell, then knock four times for added measure, and wait. A minute passes, and my hopes begin to sink as I wonder if anybody is going to answer the door. I turn and head back to my car. I plan on staying for a few days; I'll come back tomorrow when everyone shouldn't be too busy.

The next day around lunchtime, I drive back to the house, praying that I'll be more successful this time. I run to the door and ring the doorbell, holding it for a few seconds. I stand there with my hands clasped tightly behind my back, face twisted in an expression of nervousness. Again, I'm met with nothing and consider coming back later. But my anxiousness wins out, so I press my finger against the doorbell, repeatedly pressing the button so that it makes an annoying trilling noise. I'm rewarded with an impatient male voice yelling, "I'm coming, I'm coming! Hold your horses!" I smile when I see the man open the first door and look through the screen door at me. We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, then all of a sudden, he laughs excitedly and opening the other door, comes out and embraces me warmly. I return the hug and laugh, trying to keep tears from spilling down my face.

We pull away from each other, his hands resting on my shoulders. He looks me up and down, shaking his head astonishingly. "You've grown up so much over the years, girly. You're taller than the last time I saw you. How long has it been?" I laugh and count the years in my head. "I'd say it's been almost a decade since you guys last saw me." He shakes his head again and ushers me inside. He invites me to make myself at home-which essentially is where I am-and shuffles downstairs to get grandma. I hear him tell her that a special guest is here, and I chuckle to myself. 

I take a seat on a blue couch and look around the living room, taking in the usual furnishings and gazing at the new decorations that adorn the walls. On the upright piano are numerous picture frames containing photos of our family. I smile as I see our most recent family portrait-taken when I was in my mid-to-late teens-resting in the middle, displaying all mine and my siblings' aunts, uncles, and cousins on my dad's side. I look to my left and see a collection of photo albums resting on top of each, dating back to 2014, nearly two decades ago. Not a significant amount of time, but seeing the way my relatives have changed since then, it feels like a hundred years have gone by. Then, I see the one object that always fascinated me, even as a teenager surrounded by technology: Alexa. Giggling, I ask her what the joke of the day is, laughing at the answer she gives me. 

Moments later, I hear my grandparents come up the stairs, my grandma chattering excitedly about her grandchild coming to visit. When they enter the room, I stand up and go to her, hugging her tightly enough to show my affection, but loosely enough to not crush her. After a minute, she lets go and stands back to assess me. Just like Grandpa, she is surprised by how much I have grown. "You've grown up. Your hair is different, your clothes are colorful now. And you're so tall. At least for a woman." "Grandpa pretty much said the same thing. But I haven't changed that much. I just found myself and embraced it." "Yes, it would appear so. You have matured quite a bit." She looks me up and down once more before looking into my eyes and shaking her head. "You've slimmed down as well." I internally roll my eyes. Count on Grandma to bring that up, I think. "Like I said, I found a better version of myself and learned to love it. It may have taken a thousand therapy sessions, and an amazing job opportunity, but my life is so much better now. And coming back home definitely helps." Grandpa and Grandma both chuckle. "I'll bet," she says. "Now, are you hungry? I was going to make a couple of BLTs for Grandpa and myself, would you like one?" I nod eagerly, already imagining the crunch of her homemade, gluten-free bread and the savory taste of tomatoes, lettuce, and bacon. 

We head into the kitchen, and I set about slicing the tomatoes and tearing the lettuce into strips while Grandma toasts the bread and cooks the bacon in the frying pan. Ten minutes later, the three of us are sitting around the kitchen table, eating and chatting. Grandma has been explaining her gluten intolerance and how she has to prepare her food differently to me since we began making lunch, even though I've eaten her food for years, knowing it lacked gluten. When I was a kid, her loquacious manner would have bored me stupid, and my mind would have wandered, but having been away from home for so long, I just miss the sound of her voice, and she could go on for hours about this one topic, and I'd be captured.

Grandpa manages to get in a story or two about his ham radio license, telling me about this guy who always has a funny accident to grace radio listeners with. By the time he finishes, my endorphin levels are through the roof, and my chest hurts from endless laughing. An hour later, I kiss my grandparents' goodbye, and get into my car and drive away. 

As I head back to my hotel, I pay particular attention to the street signs, the small businesses, and other parts of the town. Although the town has grown since I was a child, and I don't recognize many of the people living here, I am still proud to call this place my home.