Nan

I have a few things to spell out across the page. The smell of the cold air coming out of a window air conditioner is something more than fresh. The mixture of the refrigerant and coldness is a comforting reminder of younger years. A hot summer day when even the hands of a clock get warm and sticky, time is boiled down to a trickle. The hum and buzz of an AC unit lulls me into sleepy thoughts - fresh from the playground, sticking my face into that plugged in air.

And my defining window AC unit moments involved summer vacations at Wildwood, NJ. Those July's in the early to mid 80's gave me a cultural perspective on the Jersey Shore. We cranked the AC in the hotel room. The wood paneled walls (en vogue) the carpeting from the late 70's, the thin comforters on the beds, all gathered in this one place to etch a sketch in my mind that I still draw from.

What always took the cake was sharing a bed with my Nan. She was always cold in the icebox room, she would draw me near to her and hold me. Unconditionally, my blood was her blood. She loved me, she loved all of us. Her peace came when she was giving her love away. (Paternal Grandmother)