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By Bighead Date: 2009 Mar 16 Comment on this Work [[2009.03.16.15.53.5237]] |
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Twice a year or so we would make the 13-hour drive My brothers and I would get so excited when we started seeing the familiar places and names After hours in the car playing “I’m not touching you” We were finally there Grammy and Pop Pop’s house We would pull up to the Derstine house I could see Grammy and Pop Pop sitting in the living room waiting for us Grammy on the couch, Pop Pop in his chair They saw us and would come quickly to the door Grammy clapping her hands, Pop Pop with a big grin Next came Grammy’s wet kisses and Pop Pop’s big bear hug We three kids into one bedroom with a pull-out couch Kids “not jumping’ on the bed Mom and Dad into the spare bedroom across the hall Dump the bags; except for Mom…she would start unpacking There was usually some food prepared…with love and anticipation Then talking for an hour or so and off to bed we would go There was never a dull moment Aunts and uncles; cousins that we hadn’t seen forever Mom’s family, Dad’s family and all the distant relatives It felt like I was related to all of Eastern Pennsylvania Late nights of Hand and Foot or Kings in the Corner Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy Shoo-fly Pies, Sticky Buns, Snails and Donuts Throwing metal rings into boxes Corn on the cob Sitting on the back deck…red was the color Whistling with a blade of grass Bit O Honey’s and 5th Avenues Swimming in the pool, or almost drowning in the hot tub People speaking Pennsylvania Dutch in church and sitting on wooden benches Birthdays at the shore Walking down the boardwalk Mack & Manco’s Pizza and Saltwater taffy Playing in the basement, trying to walk with Grammy’s old crutches CLOSE THE REFRIDGERATOR Grammy in the kitchen, singing How to pinch a pie crust Grammy saying “oh shoot” if it didn’t meet her high expectations The smell of Caress soap Slap jack…the smell of wintergreen and molasses The wooden spoon and fork hanging on the wall Waking up early Time to leave… Another 13 hours I remember Pop Pop walking under his pear trees…whistling “whitt too, whitt too, whitt too” I remember… |