It's funny how something as simple as a piece of cardboard can trigger such good memories for a person. It happened to me this morning. I had gone out last night and bought myself a new dress to wear to this presentation I'm giving tomorrow, and I got myself some new pantyhose to go along with it. I opened up the package of hose this morning, and I pulled out that piece of cardboard that comes with it to make it look all smooth and what not. It just flooded my brain with memories of my maternal grandmother. My grandma Corthell never EVER wore pants. Ever. Period, end of story. And she wouldn't be caught dead without some pantyhose on, either. The one thing I remember my Grandma doing was saving all those little pieces of cardboard from her pantyhose packages, and putting them in the bottom drawer of her closet in her bedroom. She had a box of crayons and a box of colored pencils in there, too. It was customary for me to come in my grandma's house, then head straight to the "coloring drawer," as I liked to call it, and spend probably 3/4 of my time there, drawing pictures and things for my grandma. My grandma wasn't always the nicest person. She had some mental problems. She was pretty Bi-Polar, no lie...like she really did. She had medication for it. But, she always seemed to have a soft spot for her grandchildren. This was one of her little things that she could do to make her grandchildren happy. So...after having THAT memory, of course it brought back memories of my granddad. He used to make bikes from old bike parts. He used to make stuff out of wood....he had this barn in the back yard that he turned into his "workshop." I used to go back into that ALL the time, and just wander and roam around that place. To me, it was a giant, vast open space full of cool things to look at and play with. To an adult, I'm sure it was just an image of a hoarder. My grandpa had so much junk in that building. But, to me, it was amazing. I would spend hours in there, exploring and finding new things every time. Plus, they lived way out in the country. There were a few houses on the road they lived on, but for the most part, it was nothing but land. The old cemetary up the street from their house, I used to go up there all the time, too! They had gravestones that dated back into the 17 and 1800's. I remember once, my grandma and mom went with me, and they showed me the stones of my great grandparents, my great uncle Seth, and my great Great Grandfather, Wellington Nottingham. It was wonderous to me. To think that my history was right there....in the ground below me.
All of these memories that I had, they made even MORE memories come back in my head. Memories from my dad's parents, memories from spending time with MY parents, memories from when I was a child. I had a wonderful childhood. I really did. I really to attribute it to the area in which I grew up. At the time, especially when I was a teenager, I couldn't stand that place. I hated being so far away from everything. But now, I long to go back home to Eldred. I miss that, and I want my children to experience the childhood I had. I want them to be shielded from the horrors they find in the city. The lonliness of being one of a million people. In Eldred, I was Melody. Kenny and Jan's daughter. Here? Here, I'm nobody. I walk down the street and no one knows me. In Eldred, I couldn't walk 2 feet without seeing someone I knew. Someday, I will move back to Eldred. I know it will have to be when I'm alone. When John is gone (if he goes before me) and when the children are grown. BUT---it will happen. I could go on and on for hours about the memories I've been having today, but then this would turn into a novel. I think it's best to just leave it at that, to know that one simple, miniscule little piece of cardboard could cause a tsunami of memories that make me yearn for the days when I was young, naive, and carefree.
~Later Days
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