Stories of the Road

This is not a particularly happy part of the family story, ninos and I do not mind if you don't read this entry until you are each about thirty-five and have road stories of your own. It is a page in your history that requires perspective and a degree of maturity that not everyone has, at any age. Your parents can fill in the details when you are ready to ask them for more information.


This is Nonna's life in boxes. Your lives were in boxes also but I did not get a picture of them. When your momma told me what she needed to do, I packed my things, prepared my little bungalow for sale and called Jaime, the realtor who had helped me buy it. Because I had no idea what would happen to me in the near or even distant future, I rented a large storage unit and packed it full with GG's things that she had not taken to her new apartment, and my things (except for furniture and decorative items left in the house to help it sell).

The little bungalow looked nice although a little empty.

My neighbor across the street made new curtains and a valence for me. I left a personal item from each of the people in my life who mean something to me. That meant a lot of little items were scattered about, but I wanted to call on those old relationships to help the house sell quickly. I knew I would not be coming back here.

Everything looked clean and uncluttered.

Even the bathroom looked good.

This had been my storage area, the sun porch, but even this room looked nice (of course the garage was jammed full of things). Jaime made some improvements after I left and the house sold on the first day. Given the situation, it was a great relief to know I would not have to leave the house vacant and make mortgage payments for an extended period.



The drive to Alexandria took six days and five nights. You were so little, grandchildren. You did not ask many questions, rarely complained and cried only twice; this was Clam who at the time could not fall asleep without crying a bit. We drove two cars packed with plastic tubs containing a few personal belongings. Your momma rode with you most of the time. Her sweet, patient manner, given the stress she was experiencing, stands out in my memory. She never whined, complained or cried which is something for you to remember as you read this and recall your own road stories. Uncle Judd gave me a small flask of really good bourbon which I shared with your momma each night before bed. We awoke somewhat refreshed, packed the car and whisked you away into the next day's adventures.



Mame packed your special foods in a cooler and maintained your healthy diet most of the way across the country. She used half of her food stamp allocation* to purchase items that would travel well. She left the other half of the allocation for your dad who stayed behind to "take care of business." Your momma possess a generosity of spirit that I lack or no longer have.


These pictures are not very good; even worse, they reveal how sad and dispirited you were. Although your mom had created a story (we were going to the east coast "summer house") that you accepted, you knew things were not right, and you knew not to ask a lot of questions. That was the really sad part, watching you collaborate with us to deceive you.



After the second day, I did not take any more pictures. Capturing your images is one of my favorite activities; on this trip it was just another act of dissembling that I could not manage.




We spent the first night with Uncle Judd and Aunt Sandy and cousin EM. It was one of the few pleasant diversions along the way.



EM did not quite know what to make of you two invading her play space. She had mixed feelings (she was only fifteen months at the time) but held up well. Clam enjoyed mauling her toys but he and EM were too young to play together. Weezie could have been a mentor and pulled things together a bit, but we weren't there long enough for her to develop that role.

Auntie Brit stopped by on her lunch hour to eat and nurse EM.
(Sorry this is such an unflattering picture, Brit. None of my pictures from this time turned out well. My sad, possibly negative feelings must have been transmitted into the camera. Fortunately we have other pictures to show how beautiful we all are, inside and out).

Clam fell in love with EM's baby rattle, an antique that belonged to Brit when she was a baby. We had to spirit it away from him when he laid it down for a moment.



So we survived the trip and arrived at the summer house, which I have written about elsewhere. Of course it was a huge disappointment to all of us, but especially to you, ninos. (We actually arrived at Auntie Erin's townhome but I do not have any pictures of our extended stay there. Auntie Erin is this miracle in your lives who makes a space for you when you need it, and gathers you in without seeming to experience any disruption or personal discomfort or any of the other situations that most of us endure when invaded by boisterous company measuring less than three feet in height. Like most miracles the phenomenon of Auntie Erin has no explanation; it just exists to your great and lasting benefit. More on Erin later when I get to the trampoline pictures).

I include these pictures because they show Clam smiling, a rarity at this time.

We did manage to have some fun times while we were in the summer house, especially after Christa, your nanny from back home came to visit. I will write about those times separately.