Monday, December 5, 2011

Lost: one Bubby Ida. Large Reward

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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