Saturday, June 14, 2014

To Me It Doth Not Stinketh

There is a story in our religion of a man who is presumed to be dead, but his wife does not believe he is dead, and the reason she gives for not believing he is dead is in her words; "To me he doth not stinketh."

I love that story.

My mother once told me that she was once complaining to my father that she was all sweaty and stinky, and he told her that she never stinks to him.

There is something to be said about loving someone so much, that no matter what, they never stink to you.

A couple weeks ago when were moving into Eldra's house, someone mentioned that it smells like old people.

But it doesn't smell like old people to me.

The smell of the air as you walk up the front steps smells like arriving to family parties, of looking in the kitchen window and seeing my Grama standing at the kitchen sink.

The carpet in the dining room smells like sitting next to my Grampa at the dining room table, helping him organize his finances when he was getting too old to do it on his own.

The smell of wet cement outside by the pool smells like swimming with my cousins, like family barbecues, and the special punch my grama used to make for us to drink. It smells like laying on the wall while my mom put ear drops in our ears after we swam.

My grandparents room smells like my Grampa giving us grandkids honey roasted peanuts while he sat in the big lazyboy chair.

And there are so many smells that were once here, that I miss.

I miss the smell of my grandparents old freezer. The one that was always filled with Hagen Daz and Bryers.

I miss the smell of the air conditioning in my Grandparents Lincoln. The one that floated down the road like you were driving on a cloud. The one with the plush leather seats that if you didn't wear your seat-belt, you would slide right off of them onto the car floor.

I miss the smell of my Grama's perfume. I miss the smell of my Grampa's hugs. I miss the smell of my Grama' cooking. It filled the air with flavor and sweetness.

I love the smells here. It doesn't smell like old people to me. It smells like my childhood.

And to me it does not stinketh.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

"Slinky Lincoln!"

As the story goes, Eldra's father bought her a Lincoln for her first car. It was some time in the 30's. for some reason over the past couple of years, she has started talking about that car, and all Lincons she passes on the road.

She calls them "Slinky Lincoln's". Well she really calls them "SLINKY LINCOLNS!" And she likes to draw out the first word forever, and shout the whole thing at the top of her voice while you are driving. Which is equally as frightening as when she sees a UPS truck.

It's exhilarating really. It causes you to get a rush of adrenaline and you could probably lift a car with one hand after she says it. So at least there's that.

The thing is, that I have a three year old who just adores Eldra. And he listens to her, and likes to say the things that she says. So when she says "Slinky Lincoln", there is also an echo (with a three year old lisp which makes it sound like "Swinkie Wincun") which carries to the back seat of the car.

It's awesome.

Last week this three year old was playing with a little toy he had gotten in some goody bag somewhere. It was a little plastic slinky. And he called it his "Swinkie Wincun".

I died.

It blew my mind the correlation his young mind made. And I laughed to myself about it a few times.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

You were just a little thing

This morning Grama woke up early shouting "Where am I! Where am I!?!"
I quickly ran in and remeinded her that she is in her home. That this is her master bedroom, and that she has lives in this house since 1963. We discussed this for a few minutes and then came the doozie;

"Where's Monroe?"

(Monroe is her husband. My Grampa. The most wonderful Grampa who has ever been. I love him so much. I miss him every single day.)

I was shocked by the question. I didn't even know how to respond.

So I told her the truth.

"He passed away in January Grama."

She was shocked, and immediately started to cry. I sat next to her, and held her, and we cried together.

The morning continued in this way, her not remembering the past 30 years, and me talking her through it. Often times she would forget what we had talked about a few minutes before, and ask again. The following conversation happene several times over the course of an hour.

Eldra: "You're Pami?"
Me: "Yes Grama."
Eldra: "You don't look like Pami."
Me: "Well I'm all grown up."
Eldra: "How did that happen?"
Me: "We'l it took me 30 years."
Eldra: "Where was I?"
Me: "You were here with me."
Eldra: "I was?"
Me: "Yes Grama."
Eldra: "But I don't remember."
Eldra: "Pami?"
Me: "Yes Grama."
Eldra: "You were just a little thing."
Me: "And now I'm all grown up."
Eldra: "Why don't I remember?"
Me: "We'll your mind is old Grama. Give it a chance to wake up."
Eldra: "How old am I?"
Me: "You're 91."
Eldra: "I'm ninety one?!?"
Me: "Yes Grama."
Eldra: "I'm so old.

My favorite part of this morning was hearing the phrase;
"You were just a little thing when I remember."
She said it several times. It's was nice to hear.