Gramma’s House
They would nudge us in the waaaaay early, morning hours.
3 a.m. or so.
We would shuffle, like zombies, out to the waiting car and crawl into our designated spots.
Mom and Dad’s plan was for their children to go back to sleep, knowing after eight hours or so, we’d be sitting in Gramma’s house
& if Dad could get a few hours of driving accomplished with sleeping, non-talking children ?
well, that would be swell too
& most of the time, the plan worked.
We would all hunker down and go back to sleep, comforted in the fact that we were headed to our happy place.
We were in our station wagon.
The back seat pulled down to make a super bed.
Blankets, pillows, bodies.
The smell of thermos coffee in the air.
After an hour or two someone would wake up.
If that someone just couldn’t go back to sleep they would stare at the person next to them to will them awake.
That or accidentally poke them.
Ooops.
When it was time for breakfast we would each get a predetermined, often negotiated, mini box of cereal.
I usually ended up with Frosted Flakes.
Yum.
Lunch would bring out the waxed papered, peanut butter and jelly or bologna sandwiches.
To this day I so love a good, squooshed pbj.
And a can of pop.
Black Cherry never tasted so good.
A cookie for dessert.
Man.
Life was good.
No seat belts.
We would randomly maneuver around or trade places.
We’d play car bingo, hangman and be thrilled beyond thrilled to get a trucker to honk that horn.
One or two potty stops.
A sour ball candy, if we were well behaved.
And before you knew it …Gramma’s house.
Oh the joy of pulling into that driveway knowing we would be there for two glorious weeks.
Truly. Priceless.
My account of our travels and Dad’s are probably completely different.
His version might include bickering, scrambles, spills and too much noise.
I’m sure it wasn’t easy.
But if I could take a trip back in time, that’s exactly where I’d go.
A crowded, love filled station wagon journey.
To that wonderful place called Gramma’s house.
🙂