Sunday, July 23, 2017
At What Point?
At what point do childhood memories fade away and why do they sometimes come crashing back, unannounced, for no reason with no prompting?
My sister and I were in a carpool during my first few years of school. My Mother didn't drive, therefore she couldn't really take a turn as the driver, but the other mothers were ok with that. Mom usually came along for the ride, but not always.
I remember Mrs. Collins and her son Mike. And their 1957 Chevrolet. I don't remember the other moms or their cars. I do remember the time, probably in 2nd or 3rd grade, when I couldn't find the car that was supposed to take me home. I walked up and down the street looking, but didn't recognize any cars or mothers. Eventually all the cars were gone and I was still there, confused, scared and crying.
One of the older kids who helped the adult crossing guards asked me what was wrong. I told him. Fortunately I knew my address and this kid offered to walk me home. My mom was scared and worried that it took so long for me to get home that day and was relieved when I arrived. I'm not sure, but I assume she thanked the older kid, probably got his name, probably sent a thank you card to his parents.
I do know she was furious that some mother left me at school. Starting the next day, Mom took me my sister to school each morning for the rest of elementary school, walking part of the one mile route, taking a bus for about half of it. She would then arrive at the school each afternoon and take us home, partly walking, partly on the bus. New Orleans had very good public transportation back then.
Why did that memory invade my brain today, decades later? It's Sunday. I was drinking coffee and reading a science fiction novel. The plot of the novel has nothing to do with school, youth or parents.
The mind is a weird thing, isn't it?