Nostalgia for Bliss

This past summer, I had the opportunity of accompanying my dad to help my grandmother move to a different city. She was moving from the small agricultural town of Caborca, Sonora to the big industrial city that is Monterrey, N.L. (both in Mexico.) As soon as we arrived, I new this was going to be a big change not only physically, but emotionally. My grandmother had lived there since the 70s, and I had visited her in that house for many summers of my childhood. As furniture was stripped bare of its decorations, I began to realize that this was going to be my last time in that house for many years to come. It would never be the same again. The house was being rented so it would stay in the family, but visits were guaranteed to diminish.

Nostalgia was inevitable. There were so many memories attached to my grandmother's house, and with memories come feelings. Once as a little girl, I played a wonderful game of hide-and-seek with my brothers and cousins. All the plants surrounding that house gave great cover. In order to trick the seeker, we would take unripened oranges from my grandmother's tree and throw it on the opposite direction. How much trouble we were in when she found out. Even after that we kept playing. We played until one of my younger brothers accidentally threw an empty glass beer bottle in my head. Oh how furious I was then, and how I laugh at it now. Regardless, it is a memory that has stayed with me since; it is my definition of bliss.

The inside of the house is filled with just as many memories, if not more. We would receive many crates of grapes from the farm my grandmother worked for. Green grapes, dark grapes, big red grapes, all very sweet and delicious. My grandmother would cook a wide variety of delicious dishes which at times in my childhood I would not want since it looked weird, but would enjoy immensely as I got over such childish things. She had many photo albums of black and white or sepia photos of past family members, and some less older color photos of my once young father. The photo collection grew as did the family.

Now my cousins have moved on to bigger things. Everything and everyone else was different, but my grandmother's house remained unchanged. It's as if time passed along without as much as a glance. The only way one might have a clue of time's passage is the garden. Even though the trees are most likely taller and some plants are different, the garden looks the same; green and lush as ever- an oasis in the dessert.