The Hillsinger of Highland Park

Strange... So many challenges I'm facing right now. So much frustration. So much turmoil. And yet... after today, I realize that e'ythang's cool. Of course I trust God to work things out eventually, but it's the need for relief in the meantime...

Anywasy, my mom had another doctor's appointment today. The plan was to leave her at my aunt's while I went to class and then I'd take her to the doctor's after I returned. But she ended up feeling too bad to go thru with it, so she never made it. Still, we went to my aunt's house with the intention of going. Something about my aunt's house...

Well, I'll start by saying this... It's my aunt's house now, but my Grandma and Grandpa were its owners for most of my life. They raised 5 kids in it, then the kids of those kids, and some of the kids of those kids. Mmmman that house... In my frustration today, I did something that I haven't done in a long time: I told my aunt, "I'll be in the backyard." Outside, the air was very cool, hanging lightly with dampness. There was no sun in the sky, only soft, white sky. The breeze was perfect, just like it used to be...

I can't explain it, but I could feel my soul distributed all over this place. I feel more sentimental attachment to this place than the very house I grew up in. It made me think back to the days when me and my friends would toss a football or wrestle or play kick ball, or just chill in the backyard. 'Remembered the 5th grade party I threw when I graduated with some of my oldest friends: Tony, Damion, Ebony, Floyd, Kevin, Gilbert, Yari, Charles, Crystal, Montrel, Mario, Nicole (coincidentally, I ran into Nicole at the gas station today, lol). And I thought about some of my later friends who would come by and spend their days on the porch: Rochelle, Robert, Omar... so many friends knew that house.

I thought about trying to jump the fence like we used to, but as an older man I find I'm more cautious now than I was then; I notice things like spider webs, lol. I visited the plum trees, and even though they were out of season I searched each one for the slightest orange or red or pink color. I went to the old brick hibachi; it hadn't been used since before I was born I think. Me and my friends used to climb on it, so I instinctively climbed on top of it and stood on the edge of it's unsteady bricks. As I leapt down and received a sharp twinge in my foot, I remembered the days when I felt invincible and would leap from anything.

Then, as I bypassed the newly added shed trying to remember the first shed my Grandpa owned, I gazed up at the huge oak tree in the corner of the backyard. "Dag... you seemed so much bigger back then..." My homie "Lil Tony" I think was the first to climb that tree when the kickball got stuck up there one day. I was never brave enough. As I crouched down beneath the tree, I tried to remember how big the world seemed when I was knee-high; but even while crouching, I felt so much bigger.

I went back inside and took a seat, feeling like a youngster, and my aunt said the strangest thing: "Time seems to be moving so slow all of a sudden." Maybe my wish came true. I gazed at the clock on the recently-added gas-electric stove; I remember it used to be an old, clicking gas stove that required assistance from a match to get crackin. Grandma used to make the best biscuits, cornbread, and pancakes with it (she would call the pancakes "cornbread" too). And MAN her pear preserve...

The main hall was right next to the stove, and as I looked from one end to the other, I thought about the family get-togethers we'd had in the past. Christmas's and Thanksgivings when everybody got along and would try to out-talk each other; fighting with my older cousin Donnie on every occasion; watching Donnie fighting with his little sister Tangy and with my other cousin Ketrina. And I thought to myself, "Man, if only she was still here... Matter of fact if Ketrina, Mike, Grandma, AND Grandpa..." And I just thought about how many family members I've seen go down that hallway in my lifetime. How did we all ever fit in that one house?!

I felt a little tired, so I curled up in my seat and perched my head on my arms, halfway falling asleep. My aunt was cooking some salmon, and she was singing as she always had. That's when it hit me that she always had. Ever since I was little, my aunt's voice has always been there; not singing aloud and drawing attention to itself, but a steady croon with a beautiful vibrato and a nonchalant pursuit of melody. Nobody in my family has really ever talked about my aunt's beautiful voice, and today I realized that it's a shame nobody has. So I asked, "How long have you been singing, Bunch? Did you sing like this when you were a child too?" She said she had, and she went on to tell me how the people she's worked with have inquired at numerous times; she would sing on her job too. But they'd always tell her, "Keep on singing; it's very pleasant." And indeed it is. I think my aunt is the most soulful person in my whole family. Maybe that's why I've always liked being around her so much.

My Grandma and Grandpa's house... The remnant of a beautiful love story... The beginning of so many other stories... The home of the Hillsinger of Highland Park... And though my story has taken me so far away from Hillsinger, somehow going back there feels so relevant to me getting past this stage in my life. I think I was meant to be there today.