My Grandmother’s Backyard

It’s hot and humid today- just the way I always remembered this place. My grandmother’s backyard is adjacent to the yard of a small church. Usually the only noise that comes from the church is when the ladies group does their jazzercise there.

Last night the fireflies twinkled for us in the yard. I always loved them. I also loved the little red buds that flower in the bushes next to the house. They only come out in summer. We used to pick them and try to fill up little glass jars with them. We did the same with the fireflies- catch them up in a jar so we could watch them sparkle in the palms of our hands.

So many memories here. Like when me, my brother, sister and two cousins locked ourselves in the bedroom upstairs that overlooks the backyard. The old doorknobs were tricky so this happened every once in a while. I’m not even sure why we were so scared. We screamed out the window down to the backyard- my family probably just pretended not to hear us because now that I look at the window, it’s really not as far from the patio as I remembered it then.

I was determined to save us that day. “I’m gonna get my daddy’s sword and knock the door down,” I said. This was my brilliant plan. My father was in the military for twenty-two years and received a decorative sword with his name engraved on it. The sword wasn’t sharp, wasn’t really pointy even, but I loved holding it and pretending it was. In my mind it was capable of cutting through a door. My sister, the logical one, helped keep my visions of grandeur in check. “The sword isn’t here and we’re locked in!”

I don’t remember who actually saved us that day, or even how long we were imprisoned in the room overlooking the backyard. But I do remember the fireflies and the little red buds that only come out in summer. And the heat and humidity, just like today…


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Filed under Mystical, Mysticism, Spirituality, Story, Storytelling

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