Turns out the enemy suitcase wasn’t the true enemy. The real foe was this little yellow
pill that she tried to trick me into eating by camouflaging it amid string
cheese and which I fell for because, I mean hello…cheese! But if there was an
airplane, I have neither memory of it, nor pretty much the rest of the travel
day because she drugged me! Sure I wasn’t scared on the plane, but come on –
slipping me a tranquilizer just doesn’t seem fair. Then again, I did get to accompany the enemy suitcase on our
trip, so I guess I can’t complain too much.
So we went to go visit bubby and Zaidy at my old stomping
grounds. As soon as I pranced
through the door, I realized, hey, I remember these smells! I have a backyard
here and a doggy door (though I prefer for them to cater to me by opening the
door and coming outside with me so I play dumb for that one). But yippee, I’m
back! Hello Arizona! Plus, bubby and Zaidy had my back, pressuring mom to give
me more food and at least more treats, so they fit the spoiling grandparents
role just fine. And turned out
that the enemy suitcase had treats and a toy for me, so we’ve now made our
peace…for now.
But after just two days we had to go to that strange
building with the huge flying birds again, and what do you know, another piece
of string cheese, which I fell for again! My short-term memory apparently needs
some work because next thing I know, it’s Monday and we’ve been home a whole
day.
Still, there’s something missing today. My bubby and Zaidy are still in Arizona
and my mommy’s bubby and Zaidy don’t seem to be anywhere we can go to visit. I
can’t quite figure out where they live, but today she seems so sad, lighting
this long-burning candle and staring at pictures of her bubby Ida with that
salty drink she sometimes makes from her eyes. I don’t get it.
It seems so unfair that I got to visit my bubby and she doesn’t get to
visit hers. There’s something
wrong with this picture and I see my mommy searching her gardenia plant for the
possibility of a flower and flipping through pictures of the two of them
hugging, always hugging so tight.
Where is that great-grandmother of mine who used to laugh so easily, hug
so tightly, flow with wisdom, and make my mommy feel so special? There’s no
bubby Ida book club anymore or communal crossword puzzles. No games of gin rummy or Friday night
sleepovers.
Without bubby Ida, we’re
missing our matriarch, the one whose mere presence completes the family
picture, but whose hand is the one my mom always sought. I’m not sure where bubby Ida is hiding,
but wherever she has been for the past three years, I think it’s time for her
to come back.
In the meantime, we’re both missing our bubbies and zaidies
today. I’m not sure if the missing
part ever ends…
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