"if I could turn back time"

they say you can't go back again, but...

Way back in the last century, 
when I was just a little girl,
my family was whole and it was a beautiful thing. 

Two of my uncles were married with families. I had an aunt who chose to be single and refused to eat potato chips if the bag was opened on the wrong end because she couldn't eat upside down chips. (That is a true story.) My grandmother's boyfriend, Papa John, was the best grandpa ever. He was a gentle giant who took me to the flea market and gave me a quarter for each one of my buffalo nickels.  
Every weekend we would gather in one place, mostly at grandma's, where there would often be 9 adults and, eventually, as many children crowded in her small upstairs apartment, which was comprised of a small landing at the top of the stairs where the children played jacks or marbles. That is also where at Christmas we took turns grinding walnuts for her famous cookies. The landing and a railing comprised one wall of the kitchen. The stove was next to the landing, and next to the stove was an opening into the small nook that was my aunt's room. Grandma's bedroom, the bathroom and the living room were the only rooms defined by walls and doors. We didn't realize it was "too small" for us to be comfortable, we simply piled in and had fun.The adults crammed around  the kitchen table playing cards and the cousins gathered around her small tv watching Petticoat Junction, Gun Smoke, Hee Haw, Lawrence Welk, The Wonderful World of Disney or whatever else was on one of the three channels available. 
In the summer, almost every weekend, we met at Turkey Foot Lake State Park for picnics, horseshoes, swimming, fishing and hiking. 
Things changed when my Uncle Joe got a divorce. Then my Uncle Jerry. Papa John died. As my family unravelled, my sense of belonging was shaken. I held tight to the beauty that my mom, dad and brothers and I were still family. Until that thread was broken as well. 

Every now and then I find myself drawn to remembering  the simplicity of a time when all was right in my little world. I picture grandma's house and yard. The Trumpet vine that climbed the two story trellis next to the house. The cherry, apple and walnut tree. The creek I lost my new glasses alongside the first day I got them. Those things only exist in my mind now because her house and all that filled her yard are gone now as are almost all of the people who met there. 

They say you can't go back and I believed them. I've said you can't go back. And yet...

Friday, as I left the nursing home where I visited my stepmom, I realized Siri was taking me past the park on my way to my cousin's. My mind was filled with memories of yesteryear. I refused to resist the pull of the entranceway, even knowing I would be late to Sue's. 
The anticipation was sweet and exhilarating.

The beach parking lot that was often filled on those summer days held only a few vehicles. 

I parked and walked to the top of the hill...

the lake and swimming area is not nearly as large as I remember

the bay where grandma and Papa John fished is still there

and so is the open area where I boasted and challenged my aunt to a footrace...and lost 

the sandbox area on the hill is gone

while almost everything has changed,
here in this place and most definitely in my family,
for a few precious moments
I was filled with childlike wonder and awe 
and in my mind, 
my family was whole
the memories were beautiful and healing 

so, while you cannot turn back time, 
sometimes you need to go back in time,
sift through the stuff
let go of the chaff
visiting the past can help you decide what's worth holding onto and replicating