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Eves in our room. Sunday nights in front of the television. The basement. Hospital rooms. Unusual Junction. My favorite place is my memories. I can sit for hours thinking about past experiences. I remember every detail-every smell, every discussion, every sound, and every feeling of each situation. My mind travels constantly down a long hallway that has many doors and secret passages along the way. Some of these I've chosen to share, while others I've kept solely for me. As my mind walks down this hallway, I find my body being physically transported with it. I love my memories because there I am safe. There I can't get hurt. I have already lived through them and I know their outcome. I can see what I learned. I can go far enough back that I can be part of pure innocence--only play and laughter and family. No worries, no fears, no pain. In my favorite place I am with Lisa, my sister and friend. There we are together and so very happy. There we are laughing, talking, playing, fighting, laughing some more, and just being together. There we share so many secrets. There we encourage each other like no one else. There I don't have to hurt like I do in the present. I can hear the sounds our van makes on the highway--the tires going over the pavement, hitting an occasional bump or rough spot, the engine making its constant purr, and the sound of other cars zooming past us. I can hear my parents involved in a deep discussion in the front, and my brother and sister laughing and teasing each other until one of them ends up telling on the other. I can also hear the voices of all of us singing to one of my mom's oldies tapes or to my dad's Kenny Rogers or Garth Brooks tapes. I remember my sister and I racing and pushing to see who would get to use the restroom first on our "rest stops". I remember the smells of the campfire and musty tent when we camped out at Yellowstone National Park. I can hear the scream and laughter as rain poured in the tent during the night of one of our other outdoor adventures. I smell sun tan oil and the ocean in Florida. I feel the saltwater on my sunburn and hear Lisa and Adam yelling, "This hurts! Get me out of here!" as they entered the water because they were both burned too! I can feel the coolness of the autumn afternoon and evenings spent in the Bedford Church of the Nazarene's parking lot. I remember watching my brother speed by on his Big Wheel bike and holding my sister's hand as we tried to keep up with him on our roller skates. I can remember being so afraid as my sister held onto me and spun me around as fast as she could and then let me go...I was so mad at her when she did that! I used to fight with both of them over my mom and dad's attention as we skated--we were all trying to show them our newest trick. I can also remember learning to drive in this same parking lot. I can hear my dad in the passenger seat saying, "Look out, Jenn! You almost ran over those people!" I remember getting so frustrated with him because those people I almost ran over were imaginary, and I couldn't even see them to avoid them! My sister was in the back seat laughing and encouraging me the entire time. I can remember the smell of cold in our room on Christmas Eves. Because Lisa and I shared a room, we never got much sleep on these nights. We would always stay up late talking about what we hoped to get the next day and listening to our parents rush around out in the living room. I can remember listening to Amy Grant's Christmas Album and singing right along with her in our best country voices. It was our family's tradition to attend church on Christmas Eve for the candle light service. I can hear Lisa, Adam, and I belting out all of the Christmas carols at the tops of our voices. I remember sitting next to each other on the pew at church with our candles lit and getting so mad that at one point, we eventually threatened to catch each other's hair on fire. I can still smell the aroma of fresh popcorn being popped and feeling the roughness of the carpet underneath me as I lay side by side by side with Adam and Lisa watching television. I remember rushing out of church on Sunday evenings to get home in time to watch "Fame" and to enjoy our dinner of hot soup and popcorn. I can picture my brother and sister trying to dance like they did on that show--occasionally they would even use the couches to do leaps off of. My mom quickly put a stop to that though. I remember our excitement as my mom came into our little room upstairs and said, "Girls, we are switching rooms. We are giving you both the basement, and we are moving upstairs!" I can smell the dampness of the basement and the distinct odor of the wood paneling. As I look around the room, I can see a combination of our decorations, shared clothes--most of which were on the floor, the dimmer that controlled the light that caused many arguments, the gray carpet, and our canopy beds (without the canopy, of course, because they weren't cool anymore). I can still hear Lisa snoring, and us giggling at some secret one of us had shared. I can remember trying to focus my eyes after just waking up from surgery. Someone was rubbing my forehead, and I was trying to find out who it was. When I finally came to, I remember seeing my sister's smiling face and seeing her eye brows wrinkled up like she did when she was concerned. I remember asking her if something was wrong with my baby and seeing her cry as she told me that I had had a beautiful little boy. I can still hear her say, "Jenn, the baby is fine, I was just so worried about you." I can hear Kim Stivers, Lisa, and I laughing as we went through dress after dress at Unusual Junction, trying to find the perfect wedding dress. I remember the three of us cramming into one of the dressing rooms and helping Lisa try them on. I can see her face as she turned around in the mirror and saw herself for the first time in it. I can see her walking out into the main room, standing on the platform with her dress on, her curls were all piled on her head with the veil capturing them just right. I remember the brightness of the lights that were on her, and seeing her smile as she turned around to look at me. She asked so innocently, "What do you think?" Lisa then answered her own question with, "I look pretty, don't I." She looked absolutely beautiful. My memories have become to me a priceless treasure. They are my lifeline and safe house. In my hallway of memories, I can see my sister's face, like in a portrait, and hear her laughter echoing in the walls. As I walk into one of my rooms off the hallway, I can see her run up to me with her big smile, put her arms around me, and tell me how much she loves me and how proud she is of her big sister. I can smell her Bath and Body lotions and her many hair products as her presence consumes me. In my memory I can be with Lisa. I am like a nomad traveling from place to place trying to find safety--if only for a moment before moving on to the next place. Memories are precious. Memories are now my only connection to Lisa-- until I see her again. I already visited my favorite place a million times today,and I can't wait to go back. By Jennifer Roberts Ballenger  |
