I was exhausted from being in the hot attic rooting through my parent’s things, as well as my tumble down the ladder, so I headed back home with the suitcase and the big yellow Pyrex bowl.
When I arrived at my house, I was greeted by my usual welcoming committee – my two big dogs, and an aging cat. The dogs enthusiastically inspected the bowl and the suitcase while the cat watched from a distance, swishing his tail back and forth with a hint of wariness.
“That’s enough, guys.” I said, as I willed myself down the hall to my bedroom. What a Day! I didn’t think I could keep my eyes open much longer so I stowed the suitcase and bowl in my room, and quickly got myself and the animals ready for bed.
That night, I slept fitfully, tossing and turning, mostly asleep, but my brain wouldn’t turn off. I dreamed I was in my grandmother’s kitchen again. She was making dish after dish, and she just kept reaching into cupboards and finding more and more Pyrex. Colorful Bowls, Casserole Dishes, and Pie Pans were stacked all around her filled with sumptuous calorie laden entrees and desserts as though she were putting on a one person potluck. Each time she pulled a new piece of Pyrex out, she would exclaim, “But where is the yellow bowl?” And I stood there, helpless, and confused with the yellow bowl in my hands. I ran up to her and tried to show her that the bowl was right there, but she couldn’t see me…or the bowl, for that matter.
I awoke with a start, and sat up in my bed, drenched with sweat. My eyes fell upon the yellow bowl sitting on my dresser and I frowned. I felt an urgency rising in my chest: I had to look in my parents attic again. I had to know that this yellow bowl was merely a replacement. I had to prove to my brain that it was creating a vast landscape of sentimentality to help me deal with the fact that my childhood home was soon going to be emptied and sold. That had to be it. Right?
