When I call up my favorite memories to the surface, they usually find me in the pleasant company of my loved ones, simply doing routine family stuff. Often, it's the repetition of doing something over and over that melts into one fond memory for me though sometimes I can recall a specific moment or event.


Somewhere around the age of twelve, and every week for a period of time, my family would watch 'Little House on the Prairie' together. With hair still wet from a recent shower, I can see myself in a red plaid flannel nightgown trimmed in white lace, eating peeled sliced apples. I am sitting in between my sister and Mom. During the commercial, I turn towards my Mother to find her smiling at me. Picturing it now reminds me of how I felt, safe... happy... and loved.


In my minds eye, there are four dark brown vinyl swivel chairs pushed up to a Formica kitchen table that is supposed to resemble the look of marble. A scattered game of "Candy Land" still lies next to it's box. We are at my Grandmother's house often over the weekend, where there are no rules for grandchildren. We stay up late to watch "Love Boat," "Fantasy Island," and "The Carol Burnett Show" with her, while feasting on shrimp cocktail & granny smith apples. At bedtime, she tells us the funniest stories about our Mother, Aunt & Uncle when they were little and we make her repeat them over and over until we finally fall asleep. In the morning, Gramma makes us buttermilk pancakes and serves us"coffee" that is more milk and sugar than anything else, in a fancy teacup and saucer. My sister and I are doted on by my Grandmother. We are special to her.


Sundays with my Father, I am in the bleachers watching a baseball game for the team he is coaching. Afterwords all the players and their children end up at the bar that sponsors our team. With pockets of never ending quarters for the jukebox, we play "My Sharona" and "I want you to Want me" as many times as our parents can stand it. Red plastic baskets lined with deli paper, full of french fries and fried mushrooms, cover the black square tables where a single lit candle sits in the middle. The textured red acrylic tumblers are never void of ice and Pepsi. Little plastic swords that once held maraschino cherries are being waved about in the air by us kids. I am joyfully happy to be in my Father's presence and feel like these Sunday afternoons are the most fun I'll ever have in my entire life.


After years of not eating the crust on Mom's pumpkin pie, she now just bakes the pumpkin part for us girls. Gramma comes over with ambrosia and beautiful tins of homemade cookies. Mom proudly displays an afghan that I recently crocheted to earn a patch for girl scouts, on the couch in our family room. It is Christmas day and I am in a forest green velvet dress & tights. An Andy Williams Christmas carol is playing in the background and we are about to play a board game together. I don't remember the gifts I got that year. They were never the emphasis. Picturing my Gamma's short graying curly hair, frosty pink painted fingernails and hearing her sweet tender voice is what's important to me. Not realizing it at the time, I now know that I was/am blessed to be part of a wonderful loving family.


With sun kissed cheeks, I am wearing a navy blue canvas coat and white Keds tennis shoes. While holding my Father's hand, cotton candy in the other, we navigate our way along the paths of 'The Michigan State Fair.' Though the carnival rides are fun, it's the animals that I love the most. But not nearly as much as my Dad's incessant, but hilarious jokes about animal droppings, the smell of poop and the stench in the air . He shouts out his familiar patented cliches as we walk by a pile of horse crap and I am laughing my head off. My Dad is silly and funny and I can tell by the look on my his face that there is absolutely no place he'd rather be than with his girls.


With our own separate piles of books on her king sized bed, me and my Mom are snuggled under cozy blankets, treasuring the quiet company of each other. While visiting her over spring break, she has often grabbed my hand and said "I'm just so happy that you're here" to me. We casually shop during the day and watch movies after dinner. I am 45 years old... She grabs my face and kisses my cheek every night before bed. Holding her tight, a lifetime of love envelopes me and I don't ever want to be without her.



I see so many pictures and streaming video in my head of memories. The happy images far outweigh the bad. Through my thoughts, I am able to 'visit' with loved ones now gone or just far away. And getting lost in my past is a precious luxury that I can indulge in anytime I need to remember...