Funny how sitting comfortably in middle age you can be transported back to grade school by just walking through a door. I grew up in a very tight knit community. Everyone in the neighborhood was not just a neighbor, they were an extension of family. My God-Mother turned 70, and her daughter who now lives in Florida threw a surprise bash for her. Everyone was invited. It was held in a local pizzaria in our 'old' nieghborhood. We all showed up. My mother, myself and my daughter walked through the door and there I stood, looking at my girlfriends, my childhood sisters and we were 10 years old again. Sure we carried ourselves in older, wrinkled, graying bodies, but we were 35 years younger. We were awed and amazed at our children and we gawked over the changes in the boys. They were old. Some of them were more handsome with age, some not. They were still ours. We learned about love and life with these boys. They were our 'firsts'. The same laughter and giggles erupted from us as we spoke in whispers behind hands so no one knew what we were saying about whom. It was a wonderful day. Grown up learnings about each other, catching up on 35 years of living. Who married who, meeting spouses and laughing over young antics. Meeting children who rolled their eyes at us 'old folks' Looking at out parents and pampering and smiling fondly at thier table as we continued into the late afternoon, our kool-aid and pop of old replaced with beer and coffee. Remember skinny dipping at the gravel pit? How about the garage rafters? Skipping school to go to Hudsons? Shhhh our mom's never knew. Remember when... Who was it that... The powerhouse... Growing up with this group of people was a treasure. One that is tucked away in box in my heart. I got to visit it yesterday. I unwrapped it, held it touched it and fondly remembered it as I met with a middle aged group of people in a pizzeria in my old nieghborhood.
love me later ~ tj
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