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On one of my multiple weekly trips to the supermarket, I was in a zombie-like state of brain melt due to the death of our central air unit. In the “seasonal items” isle, I found myself staring at a bag of lollipops for an excessively long period of time. Staring at the bag, I thought about spending almost all of my summer vacations sleeping over at my grandparent’s flat, hanging out on their stoop, drinking lemonade and sucking on lollipops. I called them the simple days where my siblings and I knew the routines of all the neighbors just as well as we knew our own. Every morning, we knew we would smell the coffee brewing in our bedroom which was just off of the kitchen. Phyllis (my grandparent’s landlord) was humming to the radio and going about her morning routine in the flat above us. At about 10 am, we would see Jane hanging her whites out on the line to dry causing us to chuckle at the sight of her husband’s undies and her utilitarian bras. Right before noon, my grandfather would wait at the front window for George and his snooty poodle, Princess, to walk by, so he could bark at them which usually sent Princess into a fit of crazy tangling George in her leash. My brother and I would roll on the ground in a fit of laughter until my grandmother caught us and yelled at my grandfather to “leave poor George alone” or she would cause us bodily harm.
I smiled as I stared at those pops.
So I bought the lollipops; the memories were free.
ChatsWithMom 