Today I was watching a mentally challenged man in the grocery store.  He was employed there and was bagging my groceries.  I love that my local store employs this man.  My mind floated back to my childhood and my cousin Gilly who lived with my Aunt Muriel.  Back when I was 6 or 7 Gilly was 46 or 47 and we called him retarded.  He would sit and rock and rock and rock in Aunt Muriel’s big wooden rocking chair.  When I went to visit my aunt it was Gilly who always answered the door.  It was Gilly who always asked if we wanted anything to drink, or if he could do anything for us.  Gilly was a fixture at Aunt Muriel’s.  I usually went to visit Aunt Muriel on a Saturday night, because it was bath night.  I would spend summers at my grandparents and they didn’t have running water, so Saturday night we headed to Aunt Muriel’s to make use of her tub and flowing faucet.  There were seven of us that would stand in line for the tub.  It never seemed like an inconvenience though today I’m sure I’d think it was.  As a young girl it was a chance to be with Aunt Muriel, who always had a tin full of cookies and a mind full of stories.  Aunt Muriel would start in on a story and Gilly would often interrupt with what he thought was an important detail.  Aunt Muriel always cut him short and said, “now that’s not part of the story Gilly.”  It was a pattern you could count on, the story, the interruption.  And inevitably when Aunt Muriel was in the middle of a great story one of my brothers would come out of the bathroom and say…..”your turn, Anita.”  Great memories, all triggered by the bagboy at the grocery store.  I’m thankful for memories, aren’t you?

Posted by Anita Lustrea  |   1 Comment »