On North 4th Street

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Something about the way the sun comes through the trees always reminds me of her.

Not so much that she was into nature as much as she was into beautiful things. She loved beautiful weather, beautiful music, and beautiful scenery. She would go on and on about it.

Going outside was the way she broke up her days. The long days at home of parenting, grandparenting, or being a widow who didn’t drive and lived alone.

Venturing out to enjoy the weather, the porch swing, gardening the flowers, or the occasional trip out when someone offered was what most of her days consisted of.

Something about the way the Robins sing in the morning reminds me of being back at North 4^th Street.

Although Robins sing outside in the mornings most any place, I think it is because in those wee hours in the morning at grandma’s house was where I first started to notice them.

This is the place that most of my earliest memories formed. There are so many memories of those days on North 4^th Street with grandma that can spark a nostalgic trip in my memory back to that time.
Or maybe all these things remind me of her because I just really really miss her.

But then again, I can remember missing her way before she was ever really gone. When it was just miles, hours, and busy schedules between us. Then at the end missing her while Alzheimer’s held her captive.

And how strange it seemed, even to me, that at the age of 10 I longed for the days to be back on North 4^th Street. It was simple, easy, slow, and stress-free.

Little did I know that I would spend the rest of my life longing to get back to that place, not only to the house and to her but to that place in time. When our family was happy. That time where the world felt right in every way.