Twilight Meadows

* This is a post that I wrote over Labor Day Weekend. I'm posting it now because... just because today feels like a good day to post it. *


I haven’t been to my Grandmother’s house in a long time. I may or may not have been subconsciously avoiding this place. In the neighborhood of Twilight Meadows, the big ranch house on top of the hill on Galaxy Lane holds so many dear memories. I believe that the last time I went that house, Grandmother’s house (well I should probably start calling it Papa’s house now), without it being a major holiday like Christmas or something was last summer for her funeral. Camille Delilah Johnson Redden was a remarkable woman and truly my hero.

So, this Labor Day weekend, I came with my parents to Shreveport to visit some relatives. I did such an amazing job of not coming to Louisiana all summer, but I had to make it here sometime. It sounds like I hate coming to Shreveport, Louisiana, but I don’t. I mean, “hate” is a strong word. I just have no friends here, transportation, entertainment, and unless the house is full of family, it’s often ridiculously boring. Other than that, I … well, I don’t hate it. We arrived Friday night to Grandmother’s… I mean, Papa’s house. He warmly greeted us in, we settled into our bedrooms, chatted, helped Papa with his computer that he has no patience for, and then eventually slept. Before turning in for the night, I popped a couple Benadryl to help me sleep. Not only was I sharing a room with two parents who both snore, but I also just felt a bit restless.

I awoke the next morning to my wonderfully hilarious Aunt Jane yanking back the covers, grabbing my ankles, and dragging me out of bed to the kitchen for breakfast. It was noon, maybe after, but that never stops my Papa from making breakfast. He’s quite a character and quite the impulsive buyer. I noticed that my breakfast was this odd-shaped pastry biscuit-type thing with eggs and ham cooked inside. It was delicious and apparently a creation prepared from his new Redi, Set, Go ™ 7 minute cooker he purchased from the television late one night.

After eating, my parents and I left for my Aunt Elise’s house to see my other Grandmother, Betty Jean. She was there recovering from her finger surgery. I think her diabetes is really taking its toll on her frail and old body, but at least her finger surgery wasn’t terrible or super-dramatic. She is only missing the tip of middle finger on her right hand. Thankfully, the doctors didn’t find it necessary to take off much; they didn’t even go down to that first top joint. She was very alert and conversational when we showed up, so I was very happy for that. My other Aunt Bel had arrived at Elise’s also from Atlanta, Georgia with her darling daughter/my cousin Etyana. Elise and Bel are so great; they’re the youngest of my Dad’s sisters and just so fun and warm. While we were there in the kitchen talking, the doorbell rang and my younger cousin Amber walked in alone. She’s 11 (maybe, I think… I don’t know) so, we’re all thinking how in the world did she get there? She said our Aunt Susan just dropped her off. Bel wasn’t surprised that it was Susan because she said that when she answered the door, all she saw was the tail of a car and some smoke as she sped off.

Hmmm… well, Susan is, for lack of better term, different. She wears dirty blond wigs and changes her eye color to match her different outfits of the day. A few years back, her and my parents had a falling out, so things have been weird ever since. For about 8 or 9 years, I never saw her. She stopped coming to Christmas gatherings if our family was there already, and until about two Christmas’s ago, had avoided us like the plague. I guess I’ll only ever see her on Christmas, which is sad because, as strange as she is, I still love her and would like to see her, but there’s only so much you can do when it comes to crazy relatives. Ha-ha-ha-ha, crazy relatives: something my family is not short of supply. I think we’ve topped the crazy quota, but that’ll be another blog.

After leaving Elise’s, the ‘rents and I went to Sam’s Club to shop for food. Papa doesn’t keep a lot of food in the house since it’s just him these days. He’ll sit in that house and eat buttered toast topped with chunky apple sauce and will be just as content as ever. So, we bought a bucket (no lie… an actual plastic bucket) of frozen brisket, hotdogs, bread, chips, dips, wine, and brownies. The brisket was actually good and big hit; otherwise, we would have starved the entire weekend. I tagged along with Jane and Mom after eating my fill of brisket á la bucket and brownies for a trip to Dillard’s to do some shoe shopping. Jane just cracks me up. She cusses like a sailor, says whatever is on her mind, and tells it like it is. We really had a good time shopping; although, Jane was the only one to find shoes, and I had developed this awful acetaminophen-resistant headache. Turns out I just need some caffeine because after leaving the mall, we stopped for Diet Dr. Pepper and candy… headache gone. So, I have a caffeine addiction… meh, could be worse, right?

Saturday night: another restless night complete with more snoring parents and a loud fan. But I need to get real with myself. Honestly, I just wanted Grandmother to walk in and tell me good night or know that she was working on some craft project in her sewing room on the other side of the wall. Thinking or dreaming of her just doesn’t compare to the comfort her actual presence. That house in Twilight Meadows will never be the same without her.

Despite not really sleeping Saturday night, I found myself waking up relatively early Sunday morning, but in hope of not going to church (the church I had gone to with her many times, the church we did Vacation Bible School growing up, the church where her funeral service was held, that very same church where I last peered into her coffin and saw her face), I pretended to still be asleep and stayed in bed. When I figured the coast was clear, I found Papa and Dad gone and Mom left behind. She said she was feeling lazy and just didn’t want to go, but I bet she felt the same way as I did. We then dressed and went back out with Jane where we proceeded to shop until the stores closed at 6. That car ride was so funny; I had to write down a few Jane quotes. My mom had her foot propped up on the dashboard from the passenger seat while Jane drove. When Jane glanced over and saw my Mom rubbing underneath her nose, Jane said, “You putting boogers in my car?! I was going to forget about your feet in my dashboard, but damn! I’m gonna freak the f**k out when I find your boogers on my seats.” HA-HA . Oh, man, I love those women.

Later that night Mom was looking through all the various closets for Robin’s old cabbage patch dolls. I have noticed over the years, that my grandparent’s house has become storage for all the Redden women and their families. Books, clothes, wedding dresses/debutante dresses, toys, games, and other miscellaneous items belong to everyone in the family. Things just got left behind in that house, and my grandmother was good at making a place for them. Papa has a hard time knowing where things go or where they once went. Grandmother was the grand organized of the house… and the whole family actually. He wants to start getting rid of everything and cleaning out her closets, drawers, and rooms. Well, I selected the books I wanted from the small hallway shelf (I tried to not be too stingy and take them all… but I still might go back for the rest), a purse that my mother carried in college, some wooden shoes Grandmother would let me play in, my mother’s wedding dress, and a few of Grandmother’s fine dresses from the 50s. It’s all so lovely, but of course, I’d rather see her more than anything and her old possessions.

Like the previous nights, another restless night followed. I really hoped that I could have a nice dream about her… nothing. But morning brought a new day that included my Aunt Rosland, her son/my cousin Steven, and his four kids. They’re nice children, well-behaved, and only really interested in playing ball outdoors, which left the house fairly quiet for thinking. I am a believing young woman and try hard to be faithful, but I can’t lie and deny that I haven’t or don’t still have my doubts, struggles, and skepticisms. On some days God is clear while other days I can’t find Him. At times I feel like Heaven and Hell are odd concepts, and the idea of an afterlife is ridiculous and foolish. But because the soul of my Grandmother, Camille Delilah Johnson Redden, was so beautiful, I just know it can’t be buried in a wooden box six feet below some Louisiana dirt. She deserves a Heaven and because of her, I know there has to be one. The Lord would not allow for a soul that good to be wasted. I hope she took a break from her heavenly tasks to look down at me during graduation. She used to talk of coming to all four college graduations, marked dates, and planned how to get to four different states. I was so proud and thankful that Papa could come, but I that just didn’t stop me from missing her May 16th. I hope I never forget the sound of her laugh, the sweetness of her voice, or her perfect hugs. I hope I always remember the important things she taught me, the common phrases she would say, and the love she gave.

Dear Grandmother, I will cherish you always. You are my hero. My memories are flooded with your warm spirit. We all love you and miss you. – Elizabeth Camille