It was a “deja vu” moment.
Climbing into the car this morning for an early morning grocery shopping trip, I was hit with the thought “this is what it felt like to start our annual summer vacation to Grandma’s in Seattle.”
What was it?
The hint of fall in the morning, reminding me of every coastal morning I ever awoke to?
The dog curled up in the back seat?
The dew on the window?
The moon still visible in the dark sky?
I closed my eyes and could see mom in the front seat, her hair smelling like the fried chicken she had just prepared and placed in the ice chests, now wedged inbetween her feet and the bags of other snacks for the trip. My dad at the wheel, having just caught a few hours of sleep after a hard day’s work.
All it was missing was a parcel of siblings, brown grocery bags full of our summer clothes, a younger sister sprawled across our laps, another sister’s Humpty Dumpty stuffed down between us so Mom couldn’t see that he had been smuggled into the back seat, where space was always a premium.
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