I went on a much needed vacation last month to Washington, DC. My primary reason for going was to visit my grandmother (top center pic, 1978.) who had a stroke in November. So even though it was wonderful to be around kindred, it was also bittersweet because it was my first time seeing my grandmother since she got sick.
You have to understand. This is the woman that raised me. I called her Mommy and my mother by her name. I can remember her getting up at 3 in the morning to go to work on her first job, and not coming home until late in the evening when she got off of her third. I know her to be strong, boisterous, loud and intimidating. But when we arrived in DC at around 4 am that Friday after our long drive, and I saw her for the first time, it broke my heart. She had lost a considerable amount of weight. Her hair was completely white and she looked frail. Her demeanor was even different. It was like something had been taken from her; like she was missing something. But I couldn't quite wrap my mind around what that something was.
The days flew by very quickly. I didn't get to see all of my friends. I didn't get chance to go up to Georgetown or take many pictures. But I did get some seafood from the Wharf. I went to Ben's Chili Bowl, bought some bad ass shoes, and I got my hair braided up. Now that I think about it, I covered an awful lot of ground in a small space of time. It took me two days to feel normal again once I got home.
The best thing that happened to me while in DC...better than hooking up and reminiscing with old friends...better than the chili dog I got at Ben's Chili Bowl...better than the 3 pairs of shoes and two pair of boots...better than the jumbo shrimp and scallops from the wharf... better than my super tight fly ass braids..was the photo album my grandmother gave me. In it, were photos long forgotten.
As I turned each page, memories flooded back. Winter, 1977 in Washington. Snowball fights in the streets. My first trip to Disney World in 1978 (bottom, right). My Uncle Jessie (center pic) who wasn't really my Uncle Jessie, but my grandmother's "special friend." My first time visiting my father (center, bottom) and his new wife.
It was like looking at someone else. I found myself feeling like I was spying on someone else's childhood. But it was the most valuable thing she could have given me.
Memories like the corners of my mind...
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