The Shortcut

I took a shortcut this morning. I had taken my husband his breakfast sandwich and I needed to mail a card so I ended up taking a shortcut down Bell Street. Haven't been down that street in years and don't really know what made me go that way today. Bell Street. My grandfather used to run a fish market/ grocery store on the corner there, years ago when I was a girl. As soon as I turned onto the street and was passing the corner where the store once stood, the memories began to flood my mind. The tears were unexpected. My heart lurched as I spotted the incline in the pavement where my siblings and I used to run up and down. We were so little. The memory was vivid. I literally almost had to pull over on the side of the road, my heart was beating so. Suddenly I remembered walking into the store, my Papa most often sitting at the old piano, playing a tune. The fish counter was on the right and I would always walk to it first and stare into the glassy eyes of the fish. It's funny to think of now, but I remember feeling sorry for them for some reason. I've never told anyone that. Strange what goes on in the mind of a child. I would then move to the magical candy counter with it's tempting array of any kind of candy you can imagine. BB Bats, Hot Balls, Mary Janes, Kits, you name it. I don't remember eating a lot of it though. We got a piece every now and then. I still love to see this kind if candy when I happen upon a "country store". Once in a while I will eat a Mary Jane just so that I can remember.

The best part of this memory is running up the stairs to where my grandmother was. My Nanny. To try to describe the feelings I have for my Nanny would be impossible. I didn't know anyone like her and have never met anyone like her since. I didn't know back then how special she was. All I knew was that I loved her. And that she loved me back. She was a quiet lady. And gentle. So gentle. I remember the way she used to wash my face. I can close my eyes and feel it. No matter how dirty my face was, she was always so gentle. I loved to spend the night with her, there above the store. Her bed was so high. I remember her helping me say my prayers and then she would be silent, kneeling there, for the longest time. And she would cry. I remember looking at her and wondering why she was crying. She would do the same thing when I sat with her in church. I was raised in a Pentecostal Holiness church so you can imagine that it got a little loud at times. But my Nanny was never loud. She just silently wept. I never heard her raise her voice. I remember her kindness to others. I remember her patience. I remember how she used to treat everyone the same. I learned a lot about Jesus from her. My desire is to see my Nanny again some day. I want to ask her why she was crying. And I want to thank her for the impact she had on my life without her even knowing it.

The older I get the more I realize just how precious our memories are. When I am having a sleepless night, I go back to my childhood and re-live the details of it. I feel so thankful to be able to say that my past is a place that brought me joy. I wouldn't go back there so much if it wasn't. I haven't always thought that. I have had times where I was bitter and confused about some of the aspects of my past. I can honestly say now that I wouldn't trade any moment of it, the good and the hard. I see the good as a bonus and the hard as a necessity. Both make us who we are.

I'm glad I took that shortcut this morning.