My day today began in a 1977 MG convertible and went backward from there. My husband and I started out with the top down and headed north along the back roads into the Adirondacks. It was an overcast day, but not too cold. We had just recently acquired this little car and our conversation began as we talked about our early married days in 1975 when we always wished we had a little car like this. I was bundled up in my winter coat and headband and both of us were laughing and playing a 70’s music cd that my husband made for our first ride. The wind was fresh and cool. Soon we found ourselves up in North Broadalbin. We passed the spot where we pulled over to eat subs at 2am the night of our senior prom back in 1971. Reminiscence was jumpstarted in my mind as I remembered unwrapping the huge sandwiches in the darkness by the light of the radio that was playing the same songs we were listening to today.
Then my husband said, “I smell rain.”
I said, “That’s because it’s raining,”I said, pointing to the windshield.
We wondered if we should put up the top, but the rain seemed to be stopping at the windshield and going over our heads, so we drove on. The next step back in time happened as we approached the Conklingville Dam. “Remember that spot?”, my husband asked me. I did. It was where we got engaged on October 12, 1974. My husband spread a blanket on a floating dock and asked me to marry him, producing the diamond that was still on my finger as I looked down at the hand in my lap.
We continued on up the mountain, stopping for lunch at the Upriver Cafe, a quaint little place perched on a river known for whitewater rafting. Eventually we made our way all the way up to Lake George Village. Here, there was a memory at every corner of the days in the eighties we had spent there with our girls. Their favorite gift shop, where we purchased many pink and purple plastic trinkets over the years, struck a chord in my heart. Where did that time go? Memories of strollers and ice cream cones moved me along the empty streets today as the shops were preparing to open for the summer season.
On the way home, we stopped to see one of those daughters at the Wine Merchant in Glens Falls where she works on weekends. After a nice visit with her, we put up the top as the rain turned from a light drizzle to a real rain, and began our trek back down the mountain toward home. As we approached North Broadalbin , once again I was swept back in time. We drove down the road where my grandparents had a home on the lake where I spent every summer and weekend in my early childhood. As we stopped in front of the house, I could still see my fifth birthday party that was held on the side lawn. Today an addition to the home covers the spot my huge pink and white birthday cake occupied 52 years ago.
The closer we got to home, other things about my family began to cross my mind. I remembered the arguments and spats that kept some family members from talking to each other for years. They are all dead now, and I find it so sad that they wasted precious days with and, so often, without, each other. In the space of time, did all those words really matter? Today resolved never to do that with the family I have left.
I don’t live here anymore, day to day, but still call my NY trips “going home”. My dad and brothers and sister still live here in NY, and my husband works here during the week. So much of me is defined by moments in time spent at the foot of these Adirondack Mountains, even though my days are now spent far away near the ocean.
Home now, feet up, glass of wine poured, book open on my Kindle, I settle in for the evening with what might possibly be the the best book I ever read – Cutting For Stone by Abraham Verghese. I read a few paragraphs and this is what I find:
“Wasn’t that the definition of home? Not where you are from, but where you are wanted.”
And so, another day goes by, I am “home” tonight, and …I have written.
*Pic below is of my husband giving our daughter a ride in a car that’s older than she is! 🙂
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