Carrie And Me: A Mother-Daughter Love Story Part 8

The house was a whole lot bigger than I thought it would be, and your Christmas flowers were still in the dining room, prominently displayed! It was wild walking those halls you had walked and played in so many years ago. I remembered your telling me that you used to roller-skate on the wood floors of the slanted hallway. Well, guess what? The skate marks are STILL THERE!!! Rosa told me that they had tried to buff them out but to no avail. I was happy that I got to see them.

There were family photos on the mantel, and when Rosa was showing me the daughter, Fita, she began to cry. Fita died almost a year ago from cancer. It was so sad. Rosa cried the whole rest of the time I was there, and I hugged her tight and told her that Fita was with G.o.d and it's all okay for her now, it's just sad for those of us left behind. What a kind, openhearted lady. I'll never forget her.

Love, Carrie

San Antonio house with a recent facelift

I was so pleased that Carrie paid a visit to the old San Antonio house, and had been invited in for a special tour by Rosa. I had given her the address before she left Gunnison to go on this trip. Nanny and I had left San Antonio for Los Angeles when I was seven, but I still remember skating on the cracked sidewalk in front of the house, falling down, skinning my knees, and screaming b.l.o.o.d.y murder when Nanny was hot on my trail with the iodine. After several of these mishaps Nanny decided that I should roller-skate inside the house on the hallway that led to the front screen door (retiring the iodine bottle for good, much to my relief). This, needless to say, was the time when I contributed the permanent skate marks to the floor.

The roller skate marks I made in 1937 are still there!

From: Carrie

To: Mama

Sent: Dec. 31, 2000

Subject: NEW YEAR'S EVE!!!

Tonight I hear they have fireworks and bands by the Riverwalk Hilton, not too far from where I'm staying. I may walk over later (bundled up, it's in the thirties) if I feel like it. The fresh air and exercise will be good for me after four days on my b.u.t.t in the car. I jimmied the window in the room so that it could open. I hate hotels with windows that don't open, so I brought my trusty screwdriver with me to undo the locks. (I'm very good at it and don't leave any marks!) Other than that, I'm very happy I threw down for a nice hotel (not a $26 motel) if for no other reason than room service. The food on the road is wretched and this way if I get going with writing, I don't have to leave for any reason. Besides, I'm a sucker for the water gla.s.s with the plastic wrap over the top.

Hope you're having a fine New Year's Eve doing whatever makes you happy. I so prefer being alone on nights like these. Wonder why? I do miss my friends and family, and the awareness of being a woman traveling alone never leaves me, but for some reason I like being off my footing a little.

I thought maybe I would be jotting down significant emotional experiences on the road, but so far I've just felt content and happy to be moving. It's a kind of basic, animal thing. I'm sure that has to do with just driving. Even with what I call "dawdling" on the road, I managed to get a speeding ticket. (Don't worry, Mama, I've slowed down.)

Last night, I went to a cafe that looked very local and had a huge WELCOME HUNTERS sign out front. I'm not unfamiliar with that kind of thing in Colorado, but walking into a place like that you never know what you're going to find. It was very busy. The warmth between the people who ran the place (looked to be a family operation) and the diners was palpable. Reminded me of home. And I found it made me feel good instead of blue. I genuinely like people a whole lot, and it seems to me that no matter what our differences may be, we have much more in common than the beliefs that separate us.

I've always felt that we're really just part of one larger ent.i.ty... .

Love, Carrie

"Mama, something weird just happened to me." After having been in her room for a while, Carrie had come into the den downstairs with a peculiar look on her twelve-year-old face.

"What, honey?"

"I left my body."

"What?"

"It scared me."

"What happened?"

"Lotsa times, I stare into the mirror and the room all around me goes away. Everything gets still and all I see are my eyes. That's not the scary part. But this time I felt myself leave my body and I wound up floating over my right shoulder, and then I was looking down at myself looking into the mirror."

"What were you scared of?"

"That I would float away and never come back into my body again." She began to cry and I hugged her.

"But, honey, you did pop back, didn't you?" Carrie nodded and I hugged her harder, and said, "And you know what? I think you might've had a very exciting thing happen to you just now."

"I don't know. What?" The tears were still flowing down her cheeks.

"Let me tell you something, Carrie Lou. This is pretty wild. I haven't thought about it in years, but I would do the very same thing when I was around twelve or thirteen."

"Honest?"

"Honest! I used to do it a lot. Almost every day! If I stared really hard into the mirror, I would 'leave myself' and wind up looking down at myself, just like you did, but then whenever I asked out loud, 'What am I doing? What's this all about?' I would suddenly swoop back into my body and the experience would be over. Then one day I couldn't do it anymore. I tried and tried, but it just stopped happening."

"Weren't you ever scared?"

"Not really. Maybe just a little."

"So what is it, Mama? Is it just us, or does everybody do it?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if other people have the same experience, because you know what? I think we're all alike, and that all of us are the same underneath. That we're all ONE."

"Really?"

"I remember another time when something weird like this happened to me, but it happened only once. I was about five years old and Nanny and I were living in the old house back in San Antonio. I would go into the tiny backyard almost every day, and lie down on the gra.s.s to look up at the clouds. This one day it was very hot. I even remember what I was wearing-a little blue halter top and shorts.

"As I was lying there, trying to find faces in the clouds, something extraordinary happened. I don't know how long I had been staring up at the sky, but I found myself floating up toward it. I just kept floating higher and higher. It was as if I wanted to be a part of the clouds, or one of its faces."

"Were you scared?"

"No, I don't know why, but for some reason I wasn't. I think it was because I felt at that very moment that I was everything in the universe and everything in the universe was in me. I felt completely safe. I was just a little kid, but I've been hoping for that feeling to come back my whole life, honey."

By this time Carrie had stopped crying.

I went on, "It made me believe that there was more to this world than just what we can see ... that human beings are all connected, no matter where we live in this world, or what language we speak. As a result of that hot afternoon when I soared up into the sky, I felt like I wasn't alone in this world, whatever it is, and that we're all part of something greater. So you really got a very special gift today. Don't be afraid, be grateful."

Carrie smiled and hugged me.

I often think about that afternoon the two of us shared all those years ago. I certainly don't think we're the only people who have had similar experiences. In fact, I know we're not. I believe it's possible that these things happen to every one of us on this Earth, but maybe mostly when we are quite young, so we don't always remember. At that age, grown-up rules haven't had time enough to interfere.