Daydreaming

DAYDREAMING

I best figured that the only way I was going to write my memoir in more detail, was to bring myself back to where the places I had been. So I told my family I would be back in a month or so that I was going back home to revive old memories. I boarded a plane from Sky Harbor airport Phoenix to Boston Logan airport. Rented a SUV, and proceeded to head to western Massachusetts. I was going to first stop in Montague, on popular St. The place that held many nasty memories for me. I had to stop in Greenfield first, for that would probably be where I could get a motel, as it was late by the time I got there. I stayed on the Mohawk trail, and that in it self contained many memories, I was thinking that I do miss this place I miss the rustic places of New England. Its middle of November the leaves are still rich in color, but mostly on the ground, the smell off woodstoves and fireplaces is strong. The fresh smell of wood cut and scenes of stacked. I sit outside the motel with a cup of fresh coffee, and let my mind drift.
I am startled as someone is tapping on my window; I roll down only to be misted by the rain from the roof. “Excuse me maam, I’m sorry to scare you.”  He was a middle aged man dressed in uniform, nice looking, with the deepest blue eyes I haven’t see in a long time. I said, “It’s ok”. “I received a call from one of the neighbors here that there was a suspicious vehicle just sitting around, so I came to check it out, are you alright?”He said with a genuine concerned look. “oh yes, thank you” I said, I continued with lethargic kind of voice “I was just here reminiscing, I am writing a book, and wanted to come here to see if I could revive old memories for more details”. “Are you from here?” he said. “yeah, I lived over there in that brick building, well it used to be a yellow house, then across the street in the green house, back in the 60’s and 70’s”. He said oh my god, are you one of the Arial’s?” “Yes I am Dawn Arial.” Well I could see his face get a red wine tint to it, and then he looked strangely familiar. He smiled and said, “it is good to see you again Dawn, I am Doug Stafford”. Well that just couldn’t be I said to myself, Doug died a long time ago; he died in a car crash. Then he spouted off some memories of our times together that only he and I knew. It was my turn to change colors of face, and I actually briefly felt a warm fussy feeling between my legs. He asked me for his company for a cup of coffee, I left my car and rode with him to a diner. We had an interesting conversation got caught up on all the years we had missed out on together. He was married with four children now and I told him I was briefly married but realized I liked women myself and that I was in a relationship with a woman and had one child of my own from the brief marriage. He asked me about my book, and I told what it was and that I was hoping to validate my mother’s life. He found it very interesting and that I should continue, people will be inspired, especially the part of finding my family and overcoming so much adversity. We drove back to my car, he kissed me on the forehead and said good luck, and best wishes with everything in my life, and I said the same.
I snapped back to reality as a bolt of lightning and a crack of thunder danced above the mountain side, I shrug off a shiver and take a sip of my now cold coffee. There was an eerie thin line of fog coming down around the trees, from Poets Seat Tower, and I realized I need to get some sleep. I took a hot shower climbed into my flannel pajamas, snuggled under the warm electric blanket. I reminded myself to stop in Turner Falls to visit Doug at the Morning Dew cemetery before heading to Popular St in Montague.