Member-only story
Home Is Not Always Where You Live
On the Safe Spaces that Others Can Give You
The black ribbon of the highway brought me to the Jersey Shore during my formative younger years. As a young child, I rode in the back of our white Dodge Station wagon, which on other occasions became a near-death ride car on late nights with my father behind the wheel after drinking too much. However, our rides to Cape May and visiting my grandparent’s home for the weekend represented everything good about my childhood.
Typically, I slept in our white family station wagon with red vinyl seats in my favorite spot-down on the back seat floor- the engine’s warmth and the hum of the tires lulling me to sleep. My brother, Russ, would rest on the other side until he was too tall. Then, he moved onto the seat with our dog, Candy. I was able to sleep on the floor until I was about five years old, them moved to the bench seat with my brother. Our dog, Candy, nestled between us. There in that car on those rides, I slept well; At home, sleep eluded me.
We approached the bridge at the end of the Garden State Parkway, and I could see the Christian Admiral Hotel in the distance, its red neon letters proudly announcing presence and glamour for all to see. I knew we were almost there and that in less than ten minutes, the warmth of my grandparents would surround me. Candy sounded the alert, and I quickly scampered out of my makeshift bed on the floor to watch for our arrival with her. It would usually be late on a Friday night when we arrived. It never mattered if we arrived at 9 PM or were caught in traffic and arrived at midnight; Granny always met us at the door, offering homemade Irish soda bread(my favorite) or fresh apple pie(my brother’s favorite) to bring us into the safe world she curated for us. She must have known the tumultuous nature of my parent’s marriage. And if she predicted the eventual impact of their marriage on my brother and me, these visits tethered us to a safety net in the wake of it that saved my life.
My brother and I slept on the back porch in cots with soft ocean waves in the distance. I slept in Granny’s room if it was too rainy or cold outside. On those days, my brother slept inside on the couch. He never indicated that he felt slighted by this, but he often complained about the bustle during breakfast…
