The Butler
July
The windows are down, but there’s no wind blowing through my hair right now and I can smell the pungent odor of the bay. Mimi would actually have to be doing the speed limit for me to even get a small gust, but I am okay with that because it would probably amplify the smell coming in. Most people would be disgusted with the scent, but for me it means we’ve almost reached Wildwood. I’m used to the extended drive down the beach, but Mim hates taking highways or main roads so it takes longer than usual. That means for the past two hours I’ve been staring at farmland. It sounds worse than it is. I love the view of the beautiful orchards splattered with color from all the fruits and vegetables growing out in the fields. While we drive Mimi tells me stories of when she was younger and talks about how much everything has changed. Like how the road me and my mom would normally take to drive down, Rt. 347, didn’t even exist when my family first bought the house down Wildwood. She reminisces about when the house was still new, a one story house with red shingle siding and a white roof. The porch has a little gate at the top of the steps to keep all the children inside and away from the street. We’re one of the lucky houses with our own driveway and it leads right to the backyard. When we finally pull the car in, the first thing I notice is our shed that stores all of our beach supplies. Growing up, Mimi and my Aunt Anne always called it a "hoodle" and to this day I’m still not sure it’s a real word. I try to imagine what it would have been like to grow up in the same time period as Mim. It’s hard to imagine, but these car rides together make it seem more real and it’s some of the best times we have together.
