Those 70ish Girls

I had the best dream last night. It was one of those dreams that seemed real. When I woke up, I tried to recall every detail because I didn’t want to forget anything that happened.

In my dream, I moved back to my hometown of Murdo, SD. The strange thing is that I didn’t move into my childhood home. I moved into my Aunt Elna’s house. Aunt Elna, Uncle Jerry, and my 3 cousins no longer lived there. It was just me, and I was the age I am now…70ish.

The kitchen was still bright and shiny clean, and all the furnishings were the same as they had been. The piano was in a little alcove in the bedroom, and there were twin beds in the room that had belonged to my cousins, Andrea and Stephanie. Their brother, Greg’s room, was downstairs. I remember that before they put the bedroom and laundry room down there, you could open the door to the pantry in the kitchen and look through a railing into the basement, which to a little kid seemed like a long way down.

After washing Uncle Jerry’s kaki work pants, Aunt Elna put wire stretchers inside of them before hanging them on the line to dry…Brilliant! They had a crease and didn’t have to be ironed.

In my dream, my days were full. Miraculously, I was able to make the homemade cinnamon rolls that Doris Haugland, who owned Mack’s Cafe, used to bake. All kinds of people would stop by and eat rolls, drink coffee, and gossip. There was also a half-eaten Fern’s Cafe gooey chocolate cake sitting on the counter. People kept cutting off little slices of it and eating it on their way out.

My friend, Karen, who still lives next door, stopped by as did my cousin, Mark. Cousin Lav was there, too…mainly for the cinnamon rolls.

All of the ladies who used to meet for coffee at one another’s house or at a local cafe stopped in. They were the same age they were back in the 60’s. Mark, Karen, Lav, and I were all 70ish. Grandma Sanderson wasn’t there. Maybe she didn’t have a ride. Mom or Aunt Elna used to pick her up and take her “to town” for coffee. She only lived down the street, but going “to town” was what she did when they lived at Horse Creek and had to go into Murdo to buy groceries.

Several ladies who visited me while I lived in Aunt Elna’s house would mention who they had just seen at the Post Office or whose car was parked in front of someone else’s house.

It was all great fun. I didn’t even mind washing the mountains of coffee cups and saucers they left behind. Even though the cups had bright red lipstick on them. Funny, I had never noticed that Aunt Elna didn’t have a dishwasher.

That’s sort of how my dream went. Or maybe it was a fantasy. It sure was fun to live in that house that I still remember so well.