stoplights

The other night, I woke up from a dream expecting to be in my grandma's bed as if it had been any other night that I stayed over there. I was confused to not find the glow-in-the-dark stoplight hanging from the fan switch suspended over the bed, just as much as I was confused that the light filtering in from my bedroom window had a yellow shade instead of a blue one.

I don't know how our minds can trick us into believing we are somewhere we are not. It wasn't even a dream of consequence; I didn't remember some conversation I had with Grammy that I had forgotten, that wasn't conjured for me so that I could see some detail I had not remembered before.

What's beautiful is that my mind was diligent in capturing every piece of information from those moments. I half expected to wake up and hear Grammy's inhuman snore paired by the pause and quick release of air. I thought I could almost see the stoplight shining above me (which is a fact I've never thought of as absurd until now--why would you use a glow-in-the-dark stop light, of all things?). I believed myself to be weighed down by too many blankets, I was aware of that old gold clock that spun its seconds around itself, and believed I smelled the almost imperceptible and yet unmistakable hint of rose from Grammy's bedtime lotion. I felt that if I reached under the desk to my right, I would find the volumes of albums of old pictures that I could pour into four hours. I felt I knew that on top of the dresser in the corner of the room was the plastic chest that held old jewelry and a lock of my great-grandmother's hair, and I knew Grammy would tear up as she ran her fingers across its red ribbon. In current time, I awoke comforted, even though I was alone and fifteen years senior of that little girl.

I am convinced my mind does it on purpose--it takes me back to that time when I least expect it, almost to say, "See? She's still there, but it's different now." And as to whatever that means or why it happens, I'll take it any way I can, and that is what I'm thankful for on this November night.