On the Fourth of July

July 4, 2009 - 7 Comments by Mishelle - Familija, Me, Myself, and I

Those rides home were always my favorite part of the day. The way my clothes felt against my sunbathed skin. The way my cheeks felt from all the laughter. The way my belly ached in that good ache kind of way. The way my parents recanted the whole day in the front seat of that snazzy Buick they bought from a guy named Steve who lived up the road and often stopped by with his brother whose name has since been forgotten. The way my father would turn around from the passenger seat to ask if I wanted to stop for *you-know-what. The smell of our wet beach towels. The light that was barely apparent through the car window. The life. The feelings. The sounds. Those rides home, those years spent, those times that are forever etched in my mind. Those rides home are my memories of childhood. When I think of my childhood I am sitting in that blue Buick, cozy, warm, radiating, and smiling.

Things never stay the same.

The blue Buick was traded in for a maroon Cougar and the last year we went to the beach my mother lost the keys in Lake Erie. I recall waiting around for the tow-truck/lock smith, in the empty parking lot. All the aunts and uncles and cousins had long since gone home. It was my mother, my father and I waiting.  Anger and frustration over the turn of events morphed into laughter and joking. After all, the car was days old.  To this day Lake Erie has a set of her keys. She’s long gone, but the keys are somewhere in the depths of that lake. Maybe they were found by someone who wondered how they got there or maybe they are lying still, untouched and waiting? It was late that night and we were all drained, but as we approached that familiar stand my father turned around and asked if I wanted to stop for you-know-what. We did and I had twist with sprinkles.

Things just seem to evolve.

The maroon Cougar was upgraded; there have been three Cadillacs parked in my parents’ driveway since. The beach was replaced with an above-ground pool.  And I’ve grown up and have had some kids of my own.    Sometimes when I get a bit too much sun on my shoulders I remember how it felt way back then.  Sometimes when I see a certain light in the sky, through the windows of my van I remember how the day escaped, on those fourths-of-July past, on our rides home.   And, sometimes when I see certain expressions on the faces of my children I am reminded of the glee that I once felt as a child.   That’s when I am certain of it.  That’s when I know that things have come full circle.

Things change yet remain the same.

*Today is my father’s 58th birthday.  Happy Birthday Tato!  I’ll buy you a beer at the Festival next week.  Or maybe we’ll just go for some you-know-what.  Honestly, though, beer sounds better to me these days.  See, things really do change!   Nah; things change yet remain the same because I still love me some ice-cream with sprinkles.  Twist with chocolate sprinkles, that is!