About ten years ago, I was finishing up a college semester in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, an area notable for its snowfall and harsh winter conditions. The holiday break was coming up, and I was considering vacations to warm places that I could take with my modest college savings fund. While I was flipping through warm yet generic vacation ideas, I recalled a trip that I took when I was a small child to visit Grandma Jean and Papa.
That trip was a keystone event of my childhood. It was far enough in the past that I remembered only bits of it, such as a visit to Cape Canaveral, being warned severely not to step on blue balloons at the beach, and being scolded for leaving scraps behind in the grapefruit that I ate. But I knew I enjoyed the trip, and my grandparents enjoyed it, and I wanted to spent more quality time with Grandma. So out of the blue, I made the proposal to head down over my break, and she gleefully accepted.
We visited nearby wetlands and nature preserves every day to look at giant birds and gators. Grandma knew all the best places to view wildlife and interesting bird facts, since she volunteered so much of her time at the Arthur R. Marshall Loxahatchee National Wildlife Refuge. In the evenings we took walks around the neighborhood and the beach, visited museums, and ate slow dinners at her favorite restaurants.
I enjoyed the visit so much that I came back again over the years. It was always a pleasure to listen to Grandma and participate in her hobbies. To Grandma, thanks for everything. My other college memories are already fading, but my memories of our time together are as unmovable as a fat alligator basking in the hot Florida sun.
Love,
Alexander Cerier
9/15/2020