Going home

I made my way to New Jersey, back to the place that I called home for most of my life. It was a moment in time to celebrate the life and passing on of a dear aunt, whose 84 years have led her home.

“Mom why are we stopping at McDonalds?”

Tradition in my family dictates a stop at McDonalds on High Point Mountain. My kids thought I was insane, as I ordered a single cheeseburger in honor of a time long gone.

“You want lunch now?” My daughter said, with a confused look on her face.

I closed my eyes for a moment, as the memories of the past filled my mind.

Weekends in the mountains, the most special time in the lives of my two brothers and me. Time to spend fishing or playing Yatzie by the fireplace. No phone, no television, just three kids, one dog, a guinea pig and a bucket of bait fish. If we behaved in the car, and didn’t spill the fish in the old bucket, we could select one item on the McDonalds menu. I always chose the bright yellow wrapped cheeseburger. My youngest brother would select fries, just so he could make them last longer. The middle one would grab the brown bag and search for that last fry on the bottom, just so he could be the last one done.

“Mom, lets go,” my daughter’s voice brought me back to the moment. “Are you going to take all day with that?” I just smiled as I folded up the yellow wrapper.

Further down the road I passed my old high school. I glanced down at my watch, what luck; there were few moments left to spare. I winged into the parking lot and up ahead I saw parking space six, my old space.

“Why are we here?” again the confused look on my youngest child’s face.

I paused again while rap music from a CD transformed to marching band music from the bleachers. Sounds from the past floated from the bleachers above as I led my team on to victory. I scanned the crowd from my place on the field for my father and my dear aunt. A flash of maroon and white mingled with the anticipation of the butter cookies and hot chocolate waiting for me after the game.

“Mom, come on. We will be late… Sure is a big school, so are we almost there?”

Yes, but there is just one more place I needed to stop. My daughter was being patient. She seemed to know that I must do this. I looked into her dark eyes and saw my father. What a wonderful gift, I thought to myself, as I continued into the parking lot of what has now become a large mall.

“Why on earth are we sitting in front of an old store? Tell me you need to shop?”

I took a deep breath and felt the humid air wrap around me as I visited the past one more time.

“Aunt Ann, all I could ever want in my whole life is a pair of red cowboy boots.”

… A trip to Tom McCann’s shoes for a special birthday wish… Five years old, waist-long brown hair peeking out from under a red cowboy hat, reflections of large brown eyes in the big store window…

“If you kids are good, then it will be a trip to Kreeskies for some ice cream.” My two cousins jumped for joy; this was such a birthday treat.

“Why, this box is as big as you,” the voice from the past echoed as we slid into the big yellow booth. I held that box proudly next to me.

“The birthday girl gets a banana split with extra whipped cream.”

The waitress brought over a big pink balloon. Inside was the price of the ice cream on a tiny slip of paper.

“Go ahead and pop it, honey.”

“Wow, it was only a penny!” This was my lucky day!

“Mom, really, we must get going.”

I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye as I made my way out of the shopping mall. I almost forgot about those red boots. I don’t see my cousins enough. I had to wonder why, as I drove on toward that final stop.

In the blink of an eye the moments ahead passed, as I shared my childhood with my cousins and my children. We laughed and loved as the moments moved on toward that final place and the lonely green awning. Together, we moved ahead as our childhoods became one, wrapping us all in protective warm memories. We hugged one another while we took our places, and I closed my eyes one final time on this journey as I silently recited the Lord’s Prayer.

I thanked my maker for the gift of fine memories, and promised secretly to make more time for the things that are truly important in my world. I celebratedthe blessing of a life that was so full and rich. I listened to the haunting music of a bugle as it carried through the trees. I watched with pride as Army officers folded a ceremonial flag. A final word was said as the gentle spring breeze arose. Pink cherry blossoms seemed to dance down from the heavens, twirling and spinning through the morning sun. I sniffed the sweet scent from the rose in my hand and felt the softness of its red petals as I brushed it across my cheek.

The moment brought a smile as I recounted each and every one of my blessings. Looking up at the heavens above me I was truly amazed at the display of pink, and I knew in my heart with absolute certainty that this was a sign from my maker that the passing of a life is only a part of something more.