Where’s that place? That favorite place…

The smell of sausage gravy and buttermilk biscuits bring me to a special place called Granny Hatfield’s breakfast table.  In this place everyone fought for the last biscuit to eat with butter and syrup like some kind of breakfast dessert. Granny substituted syrup with sorghum. She was old school like that.

Then again, I’ve played chess with good friends on the edge of a ski slope in an alpine bookstore coffee shop on overstuffed armchairs. Expletives muttered as the queen was lost. And suicide not sacrifice was the only move left giving up the king because no more life was left for the round at hand as the caffeinated drink turned cold.

Fast forward to a place lively and quick as bus drivers put money in the pot to tempt everyone’s hand filling out the “March Madness” college basketball brackets only to have a novice female driver and bracket builder win the pot. The heckling subsided as back in the day she passed out CD’s customized to the recipients personalities and musical taste. Giving back every cent of the pot to the braggadocius and the lovely souls. Anyone remember Fiona Apple? Or the Allman Brothers? What about Sound Garden? Or Michael (the crooner) Bolton “A Heart Can Only Be So Strong!” Then there is Jackson Brown with “The Rebel Jesus” and ‘N Sync, “I Drive Myself Crazy!” Who can forget The Spice Girls? Whoo Hoo! Each of those artist and songs take me to a place. A favorite place at that.

Don’t you feel it when a blast from the past blares on a loud speaker? Aren’t you drawn to the lines in a movie? For example, this line in LOTR,

         ““The world is changed. I feel it in          the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.”

Where is that place, that favorite place? I didn’t know them as having the label of favorite when I lived them. Only looking back, remembering with fondness make these memories dance and sparkle! Perhaps there are more places I will choose. I hope to feel a tingle, a faint whisper of hilarity and joy in the moments. Moments greater than these lie ahead. There are many and really, they are not found externally, but live on from within as they touch my heart, my favorite place.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s