Grandpa bent to one knee looking for just the right box on a low shelf. We were at Radio Shack. I glided aimlessly around looking at boxed sets of radio-controlled toys, a boat, a truck and a robot. We had so many of those over the years. And with four boys; one in each color. Silly things. So soon after they were assembled, they lay powerless, broken, batteries worth more than the toy, itself. A helicopter that really flies 100 feet. There it goes…gone. Grandpa finds what he’s looking for and jets into his library/work room to build it when we get home.
He’s making you an electronic device to check current. Sounds sophisticated for a three-year old, but that’s what you two did together. He let you play with his volt meter in the evenings. I’m not quite sure what he told you about it, but you sure did have a good time with it. So now he’s modifying one to send to you. It has a battery, a light, a buzzer and two probes. He filed them down so that you wouldn’t poke yourself. When you were here you poked it into our Halloween pumpkin. Crystal and Nathaniel are not pumpkins, buddy. That holey pumpkin with several dozen, darkening piercings sat on the front porch for weeks after you left.
You know how your mommy really wanted to move someplace else. Close to her mom and brothers? Well, Shelby’s mom, Katie, wants to move out of her house too. They still live next door with Shelby’s grandma and grandpa, Sharon and Geoff, but Brandon says that Katie is in Colorado now. She’s looking for a better life. Just a different life, I think. Maybe not better. Maybe her OWN life. Colorado is far away like Montana. It’s where Ella and Kalen live. It’s close to Montana, but too far to ride your tricycle over for a visit.
The other day I noticed the poked pumpkin was moldy around all of the little holes and reached down to touch it. It mashed under pressure. I scooped it up and tossed it over the cliff for little animals to eat. I should have thought about it some more before I did that. I miss seeing it there on the steps. I washed the car this week, too. Your handprints are no longer waving at me in the passenger-side window. The prints are gone from the car, and the pumpkin is gone, too, but I still see them in my mind’s eye. That’s an important place-the mind’s eye. It holds memories, or as your daddy used to say, “remembories”. We have a mind’s ear, too. It can hear your voice from the car seat that is perched back there in my mind’s eye. “There’s the ocean, Grandma. Gone, now. No cows today. Must be in the barn.” And you giggling in delight at so many things we liked to talk about. Sometimes the mind’s eyes and ears get too faint to hear and kind of blurry after time passes. This is becoming too long for mine. I need a re-charge.
Grandpa sent you the little box with lights and a buzzer so you could complete a circuit, or make one right there in your little box. I was a little worried about you putting it in an outlet at the trailer and asked mommy to put it away after you used it. I told her to always watch you closely. Maybe we should have kept it here. Grandpa didn’t think about those things until it was already in the mail. He just couldn’t wait to send it. Your funny mommy remembered that you poked an apple, a potato an onion, a banana and the pumpkin with the probe when you were here. So when she opened the package in Billings, she handed it to you with a potato. She didn’t know what grandpa made you, but told me on the phone that she thought it must be that fruit and vegetable thing. Cute. But no potato is necessary. Let your three-year old discover what it does.
Only four more days until the pinky day called Friday. Then I see you in Billings. Hope your daddy remembers to pick me up! I’ll bring you a bathing suit for the warm indoor pool. Maybe I’ll bring your tricycle,too. gma