Are We There Yet?

This weekend my husband and I are off on a little adventure.  

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It will be just the two of us. 

 A mini road trip

If we're lucky, I think we may even see some mermaids 

:)  

"[Her] roof was the sky, and her walls were the whispering pines, and Mother Earth was her bed"

-Connie McAdams-Rodriquez

I heard the front door of our office open and a muffled voice asking for assistance.  I had been anxiously waiting all morning for this.  We had received word yesterday of a death in the community and I knew that someone in the family would be by today. My department assists with burial locations.  Yes, not a typical museum job.  Because we help to preserve these sacred sites, families come to us to make sure that there won't be any accidental disturbance to historic, unmarked plots. We were shorthanded today and I knew I would probably need to help out.

I got up from my desk and walked to the reception area.  I saw one of our security guards, with a younger man, looking confused and uncomfortable with the situation.  I hurriedly walked over and introduced myself.  The man, with tears in his eyes, asked if I could help make sure the spot he had chosen was ok for his grandmother, an elder who had lived on the reservation the past 70 some years.

I went and got the records I needed and met him down the road.  I didn't see him at first, but as I walked through the cemetery I saw him standing under a large shady oak tree.  I silently thought to myself what a lovely final place.  The air was hot but there was a breeze that rustled the leaves and the birds happily sang away, unaware of the solemn moment.

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I double checked the records and told him everything was fine.  I'm not very good with these types of situations.  I suppose no one really is.  

I told him I was very sorry and to let me know if I could be of any further assistance.  He smiled and told me his grandmother had lived a good, long life.  I said good-bye, leaving him to his own thoughts.  I felt sad.  Sad for him and his family. Sad remembering my own grandmothers' passings many years ago.

I looked up into the deep blue sky and gave thanks for the day.  

Nostalgia

nos•tal•gia  n.

a wistful or sentimental longing for places, things, acquaintances, or conditions belonging to the past.

I've been feeling extremely nostalgic the past few days.  I think it is partly due to the fact that my twin sister will soon be moving back to the town where we grew up.  I am secretly envious, but even more so, beyond happy for her and her little family.  

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I enjoy those sudden moments of nostalgia.  Brought on by a smell, a sound, a taste, a touch. So fleeting. Sometimes its bittersweet though, remembering the past and knowing that those moments only exist now in memory.  

My everyday routine always sparks a tumble of memories.  I am well known amongst my family for remembering somewhat ordinary events in great detail and it only takes a sniff of perfume or a song on the radio to bring me back in time and a wave of sentiment washes over me.

Eating a cheese quesadilla with peaches and suddenly I am 5 years old in the backyard of the home I grew up in.  Sitting underneath an A-frame I created with our plastic folding "beach" lounge chairs I am shaded from the sun.  I can still smell the lilacs that lined the back fence.

The smell of wood warming in the sun and I am transported to our summer weeklong trips to Vail. The sunshine beating onto the pine tree bark, softening the vanilla smelling sap.  

Almost every day at work I pass one of the tour guides in the kitchen.  Her perfume brings me back to visits with my Grandma Ruth.  It's the same perfume she wore.  After my grandparents would leave I would go down to the basement where they would stay and stand on the orange shag carpet, breathing in the lovely smell which would often times linger for days after.

I love to think about the complexity of our brains and how something so ordinary can trigger such a detailed trip to my past  An incredible filing system must be in place!