2 ATWOOD TERRACE

Just before thanksgiving of two thousand eight, my brother Jimmy, sixty four and myself seventy two, were talking on the telephone.  I haven’t seen him since our mother died in August of two thousand two.  He lives in Nantucket of Massachusetts and asked if I ever drive by Mom’s house.  “I did a couple times.” I said, “It is shocking that every tree on the half acre lot was cut down by the new owners.  Jimmy, the sight is paralyzing.  Can you imagine if mom and dad could see they’re precious grounds now?”  We reminisced about the beautiful little five room home that was nestled among lots of tall oak trees that caused endless raking in the fall, but so worth it.  He was in awe about the trees and asked when I could take a few pictures for him.  “Tomorrow,” I said with joy.  At the same time I will go to my favorite diner to have my usual bacon, egg and cheese on a Jewish roll I thought.  I have been going there for years and have the same breakfast every time.

I got up early, got ready and went out the door by ten a.m.  I reminisced the whole ride toward my destination.  I didn’t know which to do first, eat or go to mom and dads. I started thinking about the trees again and was drawn to go to mom and dad’s first.  Maybe I’ll get a glimpse of dad and myself raking, I fantasized.

As I drove, I remembered a raking lesson dad gave me once.  We were sitting in the den one morning and it was getting pretty windy.  Acorns were bouncing off the cars and lawn furniture was blowing over.  Dad stood and said, “Come with me and I’ll teach you to rake my way.”  We grabbed our jackets and I followed him out the door.  Right away, as we walked outside, the wind grabbed hold of us, almost ripping the storm door out of the frame.  I held on and forced the door shut behind me.  We each grabbed a rake under the back porch and I followed dad.  As we were making headway, he called out, “When a windy day comes along, take advantage of it.  Go upwind and rake toward the street.” With every sweep of our rakes, the leaves twirled and burst into the wind with a mighty rush.  They blew down the hill and into neighbor’s yards too.  We laughed through the whole job.  I was hoping no-one would call the police. The leaves were going wherever the wind took them, but out of dads yard.  It was amazing how fast we got the job done with the wind as our partner.

With much thought, I made the decision of which street I would approach the house of the horseshoe neighborhood.  Mom and dad lived right on the curve for forty four years.  I pulled the car up to the edge of the back yard to take my first picture, so no-one would see me from windows.  I knew everyone.  I got out of the car and crossed the street with my camera.  Just as I was all set to click on my first perfect view, a large dog was quickly approaching me.  I was a little nervous, but then saw a man coming toward me too and decided the jig was up and walked toward him to explain my presence.

“Oh hi!” I said nervously.  “My two brothers and I sold you this house.  My brother Thom lives in Texas now and Jim lives in Nantucket.  Jim just recently asked me how our house, looked now and if I‘d take a few pictures.  I hope its O.K. with you?”  He was nice and extremely welcoming.  “Did you notice I got rid of all the trees?” he said.  “Remember the huge double oak in the front?  Got rid of that too.”  I was in a stupor and just offered an agreeable, “smart!”  While making a circle with two fingers, he said, “My raking in the fall now is zero.”

He then blurted out the startling words, “Why don’t you come on in and see what I’ve done inside.”  Stunned and worried about how I would handle it, I uttered, “Won’t your wife kill you?”  He chuckled, “No, I invite the whole neighborhood in.”  I said, “O.K., I’ll shut my car off and get my purse.”  I ran to the car feeling distraught.  I was worried that the minute I got in the house, I was going to burst out crying because I miss my mom so much.  Next thing I knew, I was walking in the back door with the owner.  I felt like Dorothy entering Oz.  The inside was truly beautiful.

Nothing was the same and suddenly I became quite relaxed. I didn’t have a chance to grab a look at where mom used to stand in the kitchen making bread and pies, or to check out where dad used to sit watching his favorite shows on T.V. like, Milton Berle or Jackie Gleason.  Dad always sat in what we called, “The Kings Chair.”  I didn’t try to see mom coming down the hall.  I was disoriented and my head was spinning a little.  “Were they with me now, I wondered?”

Where the kitchen table was, is wide open now.  The man pointed out that he tore that whole wall down for easy access to they’re new dining room, which used to be the den.  He showed me another wall he tore down in the new dining room and we strolled through it to go into the living room.  While he was telling me of other work he did, I went deaf for a minute, as I spotted mom’s bedroom doorway.  I could see a delicate gold cross on the far wall and had the urgency to rush in the room to see for myself if she was there.  The excitement of that treasured day took a lot out of me.

Later, when I got to the end of my mother’s street, I realized, it was a couple weeks before thanksgiving.  The first thanksgiving after my mother died, I was making pies and getting depressed because I couldn’t call her for a certain recipe like I did every year.  I wished then, I could go outside heaven’s gate and sell pies, so I could get one more look at her.  I fantasized, if I could be selling pies and mom heard about it, she’d want to see if they measured up to hers and I’d see her sooner.

“I got my wish,” I screamed in my mind.  I was with my mother one more time, even if it was, in spirit.  Inflamed with excitement, I changed my mind about breakfast.  I took a right into traffic, instead of a left, so I could hurry home to call Jimmy and Tommy.  After burning everyone’s ears off about my day, I knew I’d write a story about it, so I wouldn’t forget one minute of my phenomenal, mind boggling and unexpected encounter.