Yesterday was the first time that I have had a class at Thomas Nelson's Hampton campus. I'll admit it -- I felt very much like a child on their first day of school. I spent an hour choosing what I would wear, printed out the building and room number of my class, and triple checked that I had a pen, fresh folder, and my syllabus... sad.
I intentionally chose to have class at the Hampton campus forty five minutes, two days a week, for the sheer fact that it is half way to the rock gym, and I could climb directly after class without as much traffic stress. My class let out rather early considering it was just the first day "house keeping" duties. I called my mother irritated that I now had so much lag time in between class and climbing. She suggested that I have dinner with my grandparents who live just a few minutes from campus. They only live a half an hour away, and it has been well over a year since I have made any kind of attempt to visit them. I'm convinced this makes me a lousy grand daughter -- I reluctantly agreed.
As I pulled onto my grand parents street, the smell of pine, and the same houses that I remember passing every summer since I can remember made my stomach twitch. I was slowly being sucked into a sweet nostalgia. I walked up broken steps to their house; the same steps that my dad had busted his knees on as a child.
My grandmother's face practically illuminated with joy when she saw that her grand daughter had come to visit. The smell of their house instantly made my mouth water for her famous rolls, and sweet tea. We sat and chatted about school, climbing, my family, and just life. My Pappa and I then went for a walk out on the pier. It hadn't changed a bit, although the boards were more weathered than before. The passage of time forced us to walk a little slower than I had remembered as a child.
"You've caught many a fish off this here pier, gal", my pop finally said.
"Including my best catch: an 18' rock fish", I replied pridefully. (I still hold the record among my siblings for the largest fish caught).
We walked back up to the house and I meandered upstairs to look through my dad's old room as a kid. It was now covered in mostly dust, old hangers, crusty photographs, and boxes of various things. I wondered what it had looked like nearly forty years earlier.
Later we sat at the kitchen table, and munched on fried chicken, potatoes, green beans, and mac m' cheese -- I was in a state of total euphoria. My pop unexpectedly stood up and left the room only to return with a Polaroid picture. He casually tossed it before me at the table.
It was a picture of him and I sitting at my other grandmother's kitchen table. He was holding me, and I had the most pitiful look on my face... the look of a child who as just been scolded. Pooched pink lips and all. I had never seen this picture before.
I burst into laughter.
"What happened here?", I asked.
"Oh, your momma, had gotten after you for sneaking a cookie off the counter," he replied through a wrinkled grin.
I couldn't believe he had remembered the actual reason I was even upset.
We finished eating, said our goodbyes, and I headed to the gym. As I left, I realized how much I had enjoyed my visit with them. It had taken me back to a place that has meant so much to me my entire life. Things there were slow, and pleasurable. It made me realize how much my time meant to them, and how I don't give enough of it.
It was a good afternoon with gram and pop.
