Have you ever been thinking about something, then out of nowhere, a random memory takes over the inner dialogue in your head? LIke, where did you come from? I didn’t even hear anyone knock.
Associative memory is what that’s called. Pull up a blanket, lay back and relax while we look at the clouds, and I’ll tell you a story.
First train of thought: I wanted to become a Stewardess growing up, and even looked into college training for it. I remember so clearly the day the college representative came to our house. It didn’t take her long to come to the conclusion that I was not going to fit in at her school. The first thing out of her mouth was, “Can we sit at your dining table and go over the paperwork? Do you even have a table?” Wow… just wow! I looked at mom. She looked at me. We both stared at her for a second, then said, “Yes… we have a dining table.”
I know… I know… everyone is different, and some families may not having dining rooms or whatever. But that was just a weird thing to say to someone right off the bat. Currently, I have a small high top bar table with 2 chairs. No one ever sits there but the cats, and mail. The room is small, so there’s just not enough room for a large dining set. Sorry, runaway thoughts again.
Anyway, while i was revisiting that pivotal moment in my past, I couldn’t help to wonder WHY I wanted to become a stewardess. Was it an escape to far away places that captured my attention? Far, far away from the projects? Maybe. I know that wanting more for myself was always in the background, lurking around the corners of my mind. (Corners of my mind? Who comes up with this stuff?)
Spotlight changes direction to illuminate stage left. Enter the uninvited guest! Aha!
My mother sent me to a local church. Very small attendance, More like a family gathering around the dining table for Bible study. It was in a little house, where the rooms fashioned into our classrooms. The kitchen just had a few cabinets, and a sink, but no other signs of kitchen-ing to be spotted. The sweet little couple that were over the church, treated us like we were their own children, which they were unable to have.
My friend and I would stay all night at their home on Saturday, and go to church on Sunday morning. Their house was huge! Three story, five or six bedrooms, gorgeous dining room (with a table that seated 12 or more), and a kitchen with a small kitchenette. I loved being there. We would pretend to be globe jetting stewardesses coming in from a long exhausting trek across the world. We were beat! We’d hit the showers, and just spend way too long in there, just to steam up the room, and run through her fancy soaps. But hey, we didn’t have these luxuries in our houses.
It was magic, I tell ya! Just like Shirley Temple waking up to her luxurious attic, we’d wake up the next morning to continental breakfasts. She served waffles, eggs, bacon.. just whatever we wanted. All served on her pristine China and expensive glassware. Our wonderful hostess’ name was Helen, and everyone that knew her called her Aunt Helen. You just say her name in my town, and you could bring a hardened criminal to tears. So many happy memories she provided us in such a small amount of time. If I could do it all over again, I’d cherish every last drop
of memory.
So, to wrap it all up in a cute little basket, this is why I wanted to become a stewardess. Not only could it take me to faraway worlds that I dreamed about, but it would magically connect me with my precious memories of someone I miss horribly.
Until next time my friends
Enjoying the view from down here- Anita
