by Melody

Yesterday I went to Manteca with Mike, Kyle and Megan. Manteca is about an hour and a half from Mountain View, in the Central Valley, but way further north than Porterville, where I used to live. Yet the town reminded me a little of Porterville without the foothills. You’re in the valley, and there’s lots of sky. And, you can really see the sun setting at the end of the day.
Mike hadn’t seen his Mom for over three years because she resides in Miami, Florida with her husband. After getting lost, we pulled up in front of Mike’s Aunt Sissy’s house which is in a relatively new housing development full of large, beautiful homes with a large park and playground in the middle. Aunt Sissy lives with her long-time partner Jaimie, apparently. Mike’s Mom sat in front of the house smoking a cigarette. Her long, long hair and the cigarette and the way she looked at me took me back.

Just like my Mom, I thought.

She was using a sea shell as an ashtray. She got up and hugged Mike and he introduced Megan and I to her. At first, I didn’t realize that her name was Cathy. Mike’s Aunt Sissy is a nice lady, probably around my age, and she looked a lot like my sister Jennifer.

Families are different, yet the same…

I sat outside with Mike’s Mom for a few moments and then we all went inside to talk. Kyle and Megan wanted to play at the playground. The plan was that we were to visit Mike’s Grandma who is in a nursing home, who apparently was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s disease.

The nursing home was nice on the outside, with a beautiful landscape and a large fountain. You walk into an open entry way. People are walking around, sitting in wheelchairs. Older men and women in wheelchairs wave and say hello. Beyond the large open area, I saw the largest stone fireplace I’ve ever seen in my life. The ceiling of the lounge was at least two stories high, and that’s how tall the fireplace was.

There were comfy tables and chairs in there, and a couple of guys sat in the chairs watching the movie "Children of the Corn."

Mike’s Aunt Sissy said we had to find her Mother, Mike’s Grandma, so we all followed her around the corner, waving at various people walking down the hallway, some in wheelchairs.

Mike’s Grandma sat in a wheelchair in the hallway with her back turned to us. She didn’t look very old to me, still had brown hair, straight and past her shoulders. She had the same big blue eyes that Mike and his Mom had.

Sissy grasped her wheelchair and brought her into the lounge with the giant fireplace where the two guys were still watching Children of the Corn.

"Hi Grandma!" Mike said, and she burst into tears as Mike hugged her. She cried when Mike’s Mom hugged her as well. I took a bunch of pictures with Mike’s digital camera, including a four generation picture of Mike, his son Kyle, his Mom and Grandma.

"This is special. It’s not often you get four generation pictures," I said, remembering the four generation pictures from 1986 in Newport, Oregon with my kids, my Mom and Grandma. Mom and Grandma are both gone now, so those pictures mean more now than ever.

I didn’t tell them that…

The pictures came out great, and we all gathered chairs around in a circle and talked. I could tell that Grandma enjoyed the conversation, even though she didn’t have much to contribute except a nod and a few words here and there such as, "Yes, I do remember."

When it was time to leave, Grandma looked sad. I found myself wishing we could take her with us – take her out and about in the car, to the restaurant to the store, maybe hang out at a coffee shop or something. I just knew she’d love it.

But, that didn’t happen. Aunt Sissy brought Grandma back to her room and put her by the glass sliding door window which looked out on to a nice garden area. Grandma cried when Mike and his Mom said good-bye to her.

We all felt sad, especially Mike. He told me about how he’d sit with his grandma and have long conversations with her.

We all ate lunch at a sports bar in Modesto, which isn’t too far from Manteca, off Highway 99. I was familiar with Highway 99, but way further south, close to Porterville. This area didn’t seem very different, except it is a bit closer to the bay area.

I ate a mushroom hamburger and had to talk Megan out of the huge steak dinner that she saw on the menu. I mean, she’s just this skinny 10-year-old. How is she going to eat an expensive, huge steak dinner?

So, Megan settled for the clam chowder soup in a bread bowl, along with Mike. I sat next to Mike’s Mom.

She told me about how she takes care of horses for a living. She has 50 horses under her care right now. She grooms them, feeds them, takes them on rides. She has a horse named Shadow, and her husband owns a dive shop in Miami, Florida. They live in a trailer that’s parked on some land, and she still likes to ride on the back of her husband’s Harley. This was her fifth husband, but by far the best, she said. They’ve struggled, but she’s had the happiest times of her life with him.

Mike’s Mom told me about how she wrote some poetry that just "came to her." It’s sort of like, she didn’t write the poetry – it told her to write it. Like how she went to this graveyard in Massachusetts and saw some gravestones which helped to prompt her to write poetry, and living in Vermont also helped her.

I kind of understand where she’s coming from.

We stopped at Starbucks because Cathy, Mike’s Mom, really wanted a frapachino, and then headed back to Aunt Sissy’s place.

We sat outside and watched the kids play in the park across the street, and the sun slowly go down, casting shadows on everything. It was pleasant out on the front porch of Aunt Sissy’s place.

It was a good day.