Walk down memory lane

I began my first of three loads of laundry, recalled the remarkable day yesterday with my thirdborn daughter. A house guest from California for two short days and nights, I’d anticipated her smile and voice with joy.

Why is it the minutes seem like seconds, the hours like minutes, the days like hours, when a mother’s adult children come to visit?

On occasion, our family history recalled our losses, particularly our patriarch’s burial beside our firstborn in my local cemetery.

Yes, a harsh fact to face with cold, hard determination, such as my youngest daughter’s inevitable departure for the airport.

Therefore, my heart’s desire was to joyfully magnify every second. Make her visit loving and memorable.

Hence, I considered a tour down “memory lane” for my youngest daughter and me. This included the several houses where my husband and I brought our two younger daughters home from the hospital, eighteen months apart.

All but one residence within our family history remains embedded in the Detroit-Metro area.

Frankly, I prefer to forget this singular house and the misadventure my young family suffered during those nine months out of state, separated from extended family.

However, if we don’t seize opportunity when before us, we may never know the benefits of a challenge that tests our mettle.

Thus, Ruth, my thirdborn, programmed our route on her cell phone and my car’s GPS, including the building of the church in Detroit we attended during her childhood with her two older sisters.

Had we not stopped by during the staff’s lunch hour, we may have gained entrance to walk the halls again, open a door to the mammoth sanctuary.

We met the same “to lunch” note when we stood before the entrance to Redeemer Baptist Church, Eleven Mile and Hoover in Warren.

There, Melvin Raymond Underwood and Iris Lee O’Brien spoke their marital vows January 24, 1970.

Ruth captured the building in her cell phone. Navigating Michigan’s remarkable network of expressways, we aimed for Cummings Street in Berkley.
Meanwhile, I realized I’d failed to place the listing for our little bungalow into my purse.

And I couldn’t remember the house number.

Thus, we didn’t locate our home where Ruth joined our family November 13, 1976.

I returned home disappointed and aimed for my real estate listing, a cherished keepsake I’d forgotten on my desk.

Dear Reader, as you read this, Ruth may be walking the ocean shore with her dog Lily, and sister Kelly with her dog Molly.

Moreover, possessed by a mother’s firm determination, I may be driving by 2128 Cummings Street, Berkley.

No matter their age, children claim an unmovable place within their mother’s heart and memory.

Contact Iris at irisfarmletters@gmail.com