Member-only story
Mom’s Pickles
Intruding memories send me on a time warp return to the past.
It always amuses me how random memories can come flooding in from nowhere, sending us on an unexpected time traveling trip.
This happened to me last week. Not for the first time.
It was in the middle of our writers’ group meeting. We were certainly in the year 2025, at least as far as my phone and computer told me. And my behind was comfortably perched on seat in an Arizona library.
One of the authors was reading a snippet of a historical fiction story, set in Ohio in the early 1900’s.
And…POOF!
I was not in Arizona, anymore Toto.
I wasn’t in 2025 either.
I didn’t hear a word the lady was reading. I was in Ohio. But not in the early 1900’s. It was 1969, I was 11 years old, and I was strolling down the street sharing a jar of Mom’s fresh pickles with my friends.
It was easy to place the year. We only lived in Ohio for one year. My dad was transferred there for work, and we arrived the summer of 1969, just in time to see man walk on the moon for the first time.
I remember that night. We didn’t have a full set of living room furniture yet and were still using aluminum lawn chairs with the mesh…
