Friendly “Ghosts”

I don’t believe in ghosts.

But I do have faith in powerful memories, and it feels like I’ve been entertaining guests lately. I’m liking it.

There’s a section of our neighborhood where the homes have double-decker porches. Every time I run past them, I think of my grandparents’ home in Meriden, Connecticut – it had porches like that. One day, my brother and I were sitting outside on the downstairs porch off of the living room. Two white styrofoam cups came into view, being lowered from the porch above.  Inside each cup were two packs of Trident gum. Nanny and Grampy had knotted white string in holes punched in the sides of the cups and crept out onto the upstairs porch silently. It was a fun surprise and a real treat to have full packs of gum of my very own back then. But the best part of having this memory burned so vividly in my mind is how it helps me “know” my grandparents now. I love picturing them, unwinding the balls of string, stifling giggles, wondering what our reaction would be when we noticed the delivery.

My grandparents on the other side wintered in Florida ever since I can remember. The smell of the leather upholstery in the car we bought recently reminds me of one of the cars they had there. Each time I open the door to the car, especially when it has been warmed by the sun, I have a flood of memories of magical visits to Marco Island. It was always wonderful to escape the winter weather of New Jersey or Michigan (or wherever we lived at the time) and spend days being spoiled rotten and hugged ferociously. Rob and I visited Gramma in April at her Marco Island home and so many of the scents of her house were still exactly the same (Dove soap combined with the salty air from the Gulf in the guest bath, the collection of shells in jars in the garage, faint wafts of White Shoulders perfume worn on special occasions). I am quite aware how amazing it is to be my age and still have a grandparent living, and I’m thankful that I’ve been able to really get to know Gramma as the person she still is – not just in a memory.

Recently, we had our home movies converted to DVDs. We’ve enjoyed family viewing parties, the four of us, over Christmas Break. How fun to see how young we all were and how much we’ve all changed and grown in stature and wisdom.  It is surreal (sometimes uncomfortable, mostly joyous) to see the “ghosts” of our former selves looking out from the television screen. We’ve seen and heard from Rob’s beautiful sister, Leslie, and some others who were with still with us while the kids were young. Watching our adult children “meeting” their baby selves has forged some new fun memories.  Some of the little day-to-day things we’d forgotten.  Some of the scenes, however, are vivid memories that have played over and over in my mind since, like some magical things that happened during visits with Elizabeth and Nick’s own adoring grandparents. Swings hung from the rafters in the barn, the time they were allowed to paint a piece of furniture, naming new-born calves. Disney World with all the cousins, the playground by the river, working in the camp store. Our parents’ relationships with our kids have grown and stretched over the years to accommodate the complete picture of who Elizabeth and Nick are becoming, with their goals, dreams, independent spirits, and at least one tattoo so far.

Someday, who knows in how many years, I will become a grandmother. I pray that I, too, will be able to author memories that survive for years and form grooves of love, acceptance and a little bit of magic. What will they remember about me? I hope that there are memories of cookies, exploring, laughter and Jesus…lots of talk about Jesus.

Past. Present. Future. They sure blur together sometimes, don’t they?