. . . My sensational reminiscing was cut short by the urgent thought that if
I stayed in the hot shower too long, the steam would set off the extra-loud smoke detector in my apartment that lives on the ceiling right outside the bathroom door. This is a thought that urgently occurs all too often, but usually after I hear the alarm.
I guess my thoughts of hot, water-filled summer days make sense because just yesterday I was thinking a lot about this past summer and how much I miss Charleston and Rural Mission and the people who live on the Sea Islands. I miss watching the beautiful sunsets each evening on the pier, the comfort that the sight of Poppa’s truck– parked right in front of the kitchen– brings, and driving to no where every night until it’s all I can do to tiptoe into the house and fall into bed.
It’s funny how these whole, long memories just come streaming out of me in detailed sentences so easily after I’ve spent the day coaxing myself to write a ten-page paper; not to mention it is December 6th and last night I listened to Christmas music turned up real loud in the car the whole way as I drove to drop off my Christmas Angel gifts.
Maybe it is a sign that I need to move back to South Carolina. In all my studies
of Southern history and culture the past few years, and all these papers I’ve been writing,
of course I can’t help but think of the Palmetto State. I feel so content and at home there,
even though it’s not mine, but my parents’ home-state.
I’m not sure. All I know is that I am thankful for my senses that bring back
such enriching memories, for my family who helped make them, and that I have
a warm shower and some homemade okra stew to help bring them back.