keyed

south kent

Over by South Bend is a really small town, South Kent. My Grandma lives there, and so does my Aunt Melissa, her husband, and her two kids. They live in the smack dab middle of this gorgeous prairie, like the kind that has fibrous grass that tickles your ankles, and is decorated with perfectly scattered wildflowers- just like one of those pictures on a wildlife calendar.

We live in North Crossing, so if you know your directions, it's a straightaway from our house. It's always fun driving to South Kent. The suburban jungle of department stores, and nice, newly-paved roads melting into the small town forest of Mexican restaurants you've never heard of, general stores (literally the same kind from Tombstone), and patchy tarred roads. It's quite a quick drive, only 30-45 minutes. But still, the kind of drive where when you get out of the car, you arch back and breathe in the sweet, non-air conditioned aroma of the countryside.

It was a weekend right after school ended for summer. I wanted to go hang out with my friends, but it was (according to Dad) high time to go spend time with family and smoke a cigar. So, we did just that. Well, only Dad did the cigar part. We all packed into our little luxury minivan and drove down to Grandma and Aunt Melissa's.

We arrived right on time, the calendar-like canvas of land scraped out in front of us. We were in the very heart of South Kent, the very essence of what the little town was made of. Open prairies, sweet air. Scattered flowers, like someone opened a bag of popcorn fresh out of the microwave a little too enthusiastically.

Grandma raced out of her picket-fence home, her back ridged out, her smile genuine and almost as sweet as the air. My younger brother, Sam, and I couldn't help but smile and race towards her, too. I felt Mom and Dad behind us, smiling at the picturesque, stereotypical scene of kids hugging grandmother.

We got all our bags from the car, Dad politely declining Grandma's request to help. I smiled at them sweetly, embracing my inner eight year old self. Grandma grinned a big old adorable grin full of gray teeth that only looks sweet on grandparents.

I lug my bags inside, the sweet, classic smell of a grandparent's home filling and warming every cranny in my body. I put my bags in the corner room in the back of the cottage where I always slept with my brother, and plopped down on the quilted four-poster bed. There was something about a grandparents house that never failed to feel like you were forgiven of every naughty thing you've ever done, and replace it with an innocence any grandma would be proud of. A small cubic window let me peer out into the prairie besides my room, and I may have sat staring at the grass dancing with the wind for twenty minutes.

Nature always amused me. I felt that it could feel me, and everything could flow with one another in cool harmony-- oblivious to the world and all its toxins.

I tore my eyes away from the window and made my way towards the dining room, where I knew Grandma would be reading a book and drinking tea with milk. I sat across from her, looking to have a conversation and warm her little granny heart. She set down her book and smiled at me, making a comment about how my cousins were coming up tonight. I smiled and we talked about how Aunt Melissa's son, Alec, got invited to a foreign language festival for how well he can speak Spanish.

Alec was my age, and apparently we were best friends when we were younger. We grew apart, just like boy-girl cousins do, and now it's the type of relationship where we talk about school at Christmas and on visits, but nothing else, really. Alec's younger brother Troy was the same age as Sam, and they sure were best friends. They went everywhere together, always talking about Legos and video games-- just like third grade boys should.

We talked a little further before we heard a car pull into the drive, Aunt Melissa and her kids.

Aunt Melissa stood in the doorway with Troy wriggling past her to go find Sam.
Alec was next to her, smiling at me like awkward family members do.