Fashion wise, this could be an entire post on my anti-Normcore tendencies (I will also be a retro girl at heart who matches her bag to her shoes and her lipstick to her nail polish), but there’s something on my heart I wanted to share, instead. The other day I read a post on Facebook that said, “If you could sit on a bench for one hour with anyone from the past or present, who would it be?” Without a second thought, I knew exactly who it would be: My grandmother. I lost her a few years back. And she was, without a doubt, the most important person in my life. She was the kind of person you strive to be like. Want to be around. Miss in ways you could never imagine until they are actually gone. Anytime I do myself up retro style, my mom chimes in on how much I look like her. I think I inherited a good portion of her personality, too. My mom also reminds me of that when she says, “That’s something my mother would say” all too often. I consider that the ultimate compliment.
Oddly enough, just days after I saw that post and thought of her, I had a dream where she and I were chatting in her house that I spent a good portion of my childhood in. It was so real. The colors, the smells, the conversation. When I woke up from the deep two-hour slumber, I wasn’t quite sure what time of day or even what day it was. It was the type of sleep where you force your eyes to close again and hope to get back to. But that never quite happens, does it? I chalk the sleep up to swim week, a mid-week trip immediately thereafter and a boatload of deadlines, all equalling sheer and utter exhaustion. The dream, however, was a gift, a side effect of said exhaustion. And a beautiful one at that. It was so real. It was like I could touch her. I didn’t just get one hour on a bench with her, I got two hours. And they were absolutely perfect.