Search led to memories

It was a beautiful day. I was on my way to take my mom to get her pacemaker checked. The sun was shining and warmth radiated from the heavens. I planned to stop by the courthouse to see if I could get a copy of my grandfather’s death certificate to add to my genealogy research.
Mom and I arrived at the doctor’s office a little late, due to getting stuck a couple blocks from a railroad crossing. We think it was the longest train we had ever seen. Luckily, the doctor’s office was running a few minutes behind.
After finding out that her pacemaker was working properly, I walked ahead of Mom so I could open the door for her. When I turned around, she was getting into somebody else’s car. Then she argued with me that I was wrong. We finally got her into the correct car.
I told her not to feel bad. I had tried to unlock a stranger’s car several times after we got our current vehicle. Once, a long time ago, I had even loaded flats of flowers onto somebody else’s backseat. The owner watched me do this and when I realized my mistake, I looked up to see the woman and her friend laughing at me. Thankfully, nobody noticed Mom’s mistake.
She was feeling good so we went shopping for things we wanted but didn’t need, such as flowers and Easter candy. We stopped for lunch, and I took her home.
Then we took a trip back in time. We went through boxes of yarn, crafts and lots of odds and ends. She said I could take some books home. I leafed through them and discovered some of them had been her school books. There were McGuffy readers and Dick and Jane’s among others. Inscriptions bore the names of long forgotten teachers.
We found an old brown bowl. She held it as she told me that my grandfather had used that bowl to make custard. Other dishes sparked more memories. I cherished the stories more than the crockery. She told me I could take a couple boxes of stuff home if I promised to take care of it.
I left in the middle of the afternoon. I stopped by the courthouse and promptly set off the metal detector. I had forgotten that I had keys and a cell phone in my pockets. After all that, I was told I was in the wrong place. Did I know where Hillcrest Drive was? That is where I needed to go.
I recognized the brick pillars right away. The curve of the driveway was familiar, but it was shorter than I remembered. The old multi-storied children’s home was gone, replaced by a newer one-level building.
While I waited for the lady to copy the certificate I wanted, I gazed out the window. The new sports complex across the street evaporated, replaced by the empty fields that used to be there. Next door, the new house with copious plastic play equipment became the crumbling schoolhouse we had been warned to avoid. I could almost see children raking leaves into huge piles at the top of the hill and hear their cheerful voices as they played army.
I collected my document and walked outside. I stood for a moment. There was where the monkey bars used to be, where Bobby Richardson and I sat and talked one afternoon. It was the only time we had actually talked to each other. I wondered if I would recognize him if I ever saw him again?
I rounded the building and there was where the dinner bell used to be. Across the way there was no trace of the old barns that I could see as surely as if they were still there. Now it was a carefully manicured lawn. A horse grazed in the pasture next door, but I doubt if his name was Charley. Everything was as clear as if it were real. Decades evaporated in my mind. I was lost in the past almost all the way home.
It seems that the land there held the memories of all that had happened in that place, so long ago. I touched those lost times tenderly and with wonder, before filing them back in the recesses of my mind. I pulled into my driveway and was in the present. It was a beautiful day as the sun smiled down upon my world.

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