could you repeat that?

I'm 19 years old. So, with logic, you could say that I've been going to Texas for about 18 of those years.

With a sigh of relief, I can happily rest my eyes at night knowing that this horrific experience of a semester is over. In the midst of it, in hanging out with my friends in the moments of relaxation or during those rare moments of a study party transitioning into a dance party, did I wonder, “Why do I think this is so bad?”

Now don’t get me wrong, this semester challenged me. But when I look back at it, it was manageable. I mean, I am typing right now, aren’t I? A lot of variables went into it; I knew it wasn’t a simple equation. I finally figured it out. The lack of familiarity drained me. I compare it to my freshman year and realize there were far more changes that took place then, so how was this year any different? I guess the only conclusion I have is the unexpectedness of it all.

To name a few: apartment living was new, actually grocery shopping and cooking dinner (but let’s be honest, Chipotle is like two minutes away) and taking on new financial responsibilities in general. On top of that, I felt an incredible amount of pressure from school and gained a slightly different circle of friends.

Don’t worry, though. All of my absolute favorite things were still very much consistent. I still had to memorize the same French verbs to conjugate, I still mastered waking up 10 minutes before I had to be clocking into work, I continued the pattern of starting a 6-page paper the night before, or hauling my smelly, coffee-stained laundry to my nearest friend’s apartment. Yes, all of my favorite things. In truth, my moments of solitude cooped up with a book that didn’t bore me to tears, lying around on a Saturday morning watching Friends, or late night spontaneous drives to Big Tree were my favorite moments. Too much of what I do sometimes is me trying to be adventurous, when I’d rather sip on a hot cup of coffee with a dear friend. Sometimes you want to silence the pressures of this world that scream “go, go, go” and instead become one with your couch for the day. There’s a fine line between laziness and relaxation, but that’s for a different day.

If you ask those that know me well, they can attest to me being a crab leading up to the first break. And when we all came back it was noted by many that I seemed like a different person. One comment was even, “Madi is back!” I could take the time to be actually saddened that I let the semester get to me as much as I did, but it’s already taken too much of my time.

So, what was it about a break that was so effective as it was? I mean was it really sleeping in until lunchtime that could repair a few months of damage?  I truly believe that it was the moment I dug out that homemade dumplings recipe, where the edges are starting to curl, with a couple of night’s rest with my dogs at my legs and extra dry legs from multiple baths, that I felt like myself again. I went back to school and when I should have been studying for the Statistics final that I literally failed, I instead invited some friends over one Sunday afternoon and cooked those famous dumplings. Do I regret it? Well, only that I should have made more dumplings.

Traditions. Like going to Texas for the past 18 years.

I’ve gotten not only the privilege, but also the heartache, of watching my grandparents grow older with each visit. 

I can name many of the places for lunch in the Little Rock, Arkansas area. I can show you where my dad went to high school, I can tell you my grandmother’s order at Whataburger and direct you to the nearest Target. I can point to what I order at my favorite Mexican restaurant and guide your eyes to my favorite family portrait that I know is hanging in the same spot since the last visit. Some things have in fact changed; my granddaddy has a dog now, we have lost and gained a few passengers over the years what with life’s curveballs and more recently, we repeat ourselves a little more.

I know I have mentioned my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s before but it’s a subject that shouldn’t be brushed aside.

Things have quite drastically changed with her.

Our visits have went from walking in the door, inhaling the overuse of her lavender perfume in preparation for dinner, to walking in and watching as she pushes herself up from her recliner to greet us. Not many things remind you of your true helplessness more than in moments of watching a loved one’s health as it decreases.

They do what they can to get by, my granddaddy and her. They have been married for longer than they would like and they could name every flaw, quirk and peeve about each other if you asked. Actually, no need to ask. For as long as I can remember, my grandparents have had their own separate “living” rooms, each with a TV in it to watch the shows of their liking separately.

When we aren’t in Texas, we especially hear all about how my grandmother is driving my granddaddy up a wall. But when we’re there, I don’t see it as much. They simultaneously keep to themselves, and completely depend on each other. Like my brother said, they know everything about each other. They may not like each other at times, but they really don’t know how to live without each other.  

During this specific visit, things weren’t drastically different from the last. The picture still hung in its place; I ordered my usual at the restaurant and so on. Except one thing: my grandmother stayed in her recliner in her own separate room more than usual. It got to the point where we were all visiting in the other room with some extended family and my brother had to call her in with us several times.

Later on that day, I went and sat in that chair of hers and tried to see things from her point of view. In front of me was the TV that didn’t know much of a life outside of the sports channel, collectable clocks surrounding me and on both sides, the Dallas Cowboys football schedule taped to whatever will hold it up. I sat there and felt like Anita Lee.

Maybe, just maybe, when the people she loved the most were around her, visiting from miles away, she needed her own space. When we all sat around in a circle, sparking up various conversations, her eyes wandered from one to the next trying to remember what the opening line was in the first place. She may have felt overwhelmed and unable to contribute to the conversation, leading to her shutting down and isolating herself a bit.

And I’m sure that when we said our goodbyes and she hugged our necks, she went back inside and sat down in her chair. Not because she was sad, but because it was familiar.