Karen, on the other hand, while still grieving over my mother's death, was thrilled to visit the site of the family I'd so vividly described. It was the first spark of positive emotion since we'd heard the distressing news.
"I'm sure Suzie and Mike have made a lot of changes," I told her. "I may hardly recognize the place." That wasn't the case. The outside was painted a different color but entering the house was like stepping into a time warp. Even some of the old furniture remained and the front entryway was still dressed in flowered wallpaper. I experienced a wave of mixed emotions while Suzie apologized profusely.
"We always planned to remodel, but the money was never there. It's such a mess compared to your house."
I hugged her, trying to hold back the tears. "It's wonderful. It's a home. The place was a castle for you and me and I know it was the same for your family."
"Can I see everything?" Karen asked, still holding my hand.
"God, it's such a trash heap up there," Suzie wailed. I could read the embarrassment on her face but when she saw how strongly Karen wanted to tour, she shrugged and let us investigate. Suzie's daughter Maureen, together with Jake her husband, her twins and infant daughter were staying in the house for the funeral. While the resulting clutter and chaos was understandable, Suzie never was the housekeeper our mother had been and the old house showed it. Karen asked a hundred questions as she poked in every dusty corner, examining every room. With children scuttling around us I described memories that poured forth like April rains. Even the old dining room table, the site of so many games, remained. I recognized pictures on the walls. The kitchen was as I remembered save a dishwasher and new curtains, and the pantry behind it.
I pointed out our old shared bedroom, and the window view of our maple tree, much larger now but still showing the timbers of a tree house we'd all built together. How did I get so far from all of this? If I closed my eyes, I could see the house as it once was, clean and neat, by my mother's hand. How did I become so selfish and traveled so far from Milford Street? I managed to hold back my tears and get through the rest of the day. Two hours later we were back on the road to Summerside.
A world class depression descended on me in the days following my mother's burial. I plodded through my chores and tried my best to maintain a pleasant disposition but everyone noticed my changed mood. The toy store suffered my absence and my erratic schedule in this, the busy summer season. The only positive effect was that Cathy Chatzky, a seventeen-year-old single mother clerk, was getting more hours and the money she so sorely needed.