Jo

I fell asleep on top of the crusty muted colored bedspread. How is that even possible? I'm not a germaphobe like Beth but still they never wash the bed coverings in hotels! Usually Ramada Inns are pretty decent but this one doesn't look like it's had an update since the1980's.

Before reading more of mom's journals I opted for a quick body shower. Amy coined that phrase in our family. "Do I have time for a body shower?" She meant she wouldn't be washing her hair otherwise it would take her two hours from start to finish.

The shower was grimy and the thin white plastic shower curtain had seen better days. No matter how I turned the convoluted nozzle, the water was blazing hot or ice cold. I opted for ice cold. As I stepped out of the moldy shower the paper thin plastic shower curtain clung to my naked body.  I felt like I needed another shower. I slipped into a comfy pair of black bike shorts and an oversized cornflower blue tee. On the counter was a coffee pot for one. I'm a bit of a coffee snob. At home my mom would roast her own beans, grind them and we'd perc our coffee in the antique Farberware percolator Nana gave us. I wasn't at home and I'd better learn to adapt so I made the light brown swill and poured in the powdered creamer and stirred it with a plastic black stirrer.. It barely mixed. Clumps swirled in the brackish coffee-like substance. I gulped it down and prayed it contained real caffeine. I desperately needed to clear my foggy brain.

"Where did I leave off? And when did I start talking to myself?" I muttered as I searched for the journal. I had thrown it on the other double bed in the room. It's odd to have two beds to myself. Growing up I barely had one.

Dear Future Reader,

Here we are. Thank you for taking the time to come back in time with me. You're a time traveler! Did you know that?

Hello Jo.

I shook my head. I thought maybe I was seeing things. She continued highlighting all the parts concerning me in neon blue.

Jo, I knew you'd be here at this point. You're alone aren't you?

Okay mom, what gives?

(JO IS NEON BLUE. AMY IS NEON PINK. MEG IS NEON yellow. BETH IS GREEN.)

Well Jo there's something you should know about yourself. You're old enough to grasp the concept. When you were little it seemed like a game. Perhaps when you were a child it was a game. Then you put away childish things. But now you're a woman and the smartest woman I know.

Mom? You have 4 daughters. What if the other daughters had read this particular journal?

I know what you're thinking. How can I blatantly say Jo is the smartest? That's easy, it's because you are. That's not to say my other daughters aren't also brilliant and have their merits. In many ways they are superior to you. Beth is the most empathetic person I have ever met. She's sweet, kind and emotionally intelligent. You, on the other hand, will miss even the most blatant emotional cues. 

Gee thanks mom.

Amy is beautiful. She's the prettiest one in the family. We can all agree on that can't we? Oh all four of my daughters are gorgeous. There is a phrase, "One daughter is prettier than the next." ALL OF YOU ARE BREATHTAKING but Amy takes the cake!  Ha ha! See what I did there? Amy loves cake too!  (Too bad she's always watching her figure because that girl is a better baker than me!)

Being beautiful can blind you to the things of the world. It can make you vain and vapid and Amy's dealt with that... but lately I've seen her growth. She sees the good in things and always looks on the bright side. Blonds do have more fun! Some may say it's easier when you're blond and beautiful. Listen, I was blond and beautiful but I could be the loneliest of creatures. People can be jealous and say awful things about you. You have to try harder to be a good friend and to prove you are more than just a pretty face. Amy has substance. Look past her looks. She really sees people's souls. Her gift is pretty obvious. Remember when you gave her your brand new skateboard? Um.... I made her give it back but it was the only thing you asked for that Christmas and poof Amy had it under her bed before you could say, "Bippity boppity boo."

I was about to tell you about your giftings and here I am going on about your sisters. Well I must mention Meg too! Meg, the oldest, the responsible, the dependable. Oh most people would not want those attributes. They sound so sensible but that's who she is! Down to earth, real, she's no phoney bologna that's for sure! Genuine. Meg is genuine.

Mom! You are saying the sweetest things about us! Why didn't we talk more like this when we were growing up? It would have helped us, shaped us.

Jo, you may be wondering why I didn't mention all of this when you guys were little. There's a perfectly good explanation. Each of you had to become who you were meant to become. Sometimes a parent can accidentally label and accidentally mold a child. You're the smart one. You're the pretty one... but it limits that child. We are all so much more than one or two things!

You Jo are a 1000 things! Oh how I wish I could be there to experience all of them blossom and bloom but it is enough to see them growing inside you. I've gotten to experience many things you have already forgotten. You probably believe you've dreamed them but I want you to know they happened. They really happened.

First off you were fascinated with time travel in the bible. You'd point it out in every story. The bible uses the word "translate" but even at a young age you had a deep understanding of words therefore picked up on this right away.

There's a part in the bible where Jesus is walking on the water. Everyone else thought it was so cool that Jesus had this superpower. You said, "He's a spirit! He's not subject to time like we are! (Uh... Jo, you were 5 years young!) There were many other instances where Philip was in one city but turned up in another. Like (I'm snapping my fingers!) that! You innocently remarked if Philip could do it so could we! You stuck out your chin and said, "Jesus said greater things we will do!" Faith like a child.

You remember Grandpa Joe right? My father adored you. You were his favorite. It's okay to have favorites Jo. Sometimes we just jive with a person and have this amazing kinship. Like with Jonathan and David in the bible.  In Grandpa Joe's eyes the sun rose and set on you. Even when he began to experience early Dementia he never forgot his darling Jo.

When you were six he had to be put in a nursing home. You cried and cried. You said you missed your best friend. He and Nana had lived across the street your whole life. The nursing home was a good hour's drive and we could only make it there every other weekend. You began writing stories so that Grandpa Jo and you could continue your adventures together. Do you remember them? The Adventures of Joe and Jo. For two weeks you'd write about a new adventure you and Grandpa would take... to the Grand Canyon or to the Pyramids. (Sometimes Beth would draw pictures for you. Once she drew a beautiful bouquet of flowers and they showed up on our front porch. How mysterious! Oh how she loved her crayons!)

I noted how Mom highlighted the part about Beth in neon green. Green suited Beth. She loved plants and gardening except when her allergies were acting up.

Your father and I were amazed! Dad wanted to send your stories to Reader's Digest but I told him they were personal. Anyway... that isn't the amazing part of all of this. When you were six Grandpa Joe got really sick. He had lung cancer and the nurses said little kids couldn't visit him. The chemo made his immune system very weak. You were so angry. You were the only reason he had to live. He lived for your visits and your adventures.

One night I came upstairs to tuck in my four little women. You, Meg, Beth and Amy were all asleep. I remember what you were wearing because it was a week before Christmas and you all insisted you wear your matching Christmas PJS early for it would make Christmastime last longer.

The next morning you went on and on about visiting Grandpa Joe. You told him your latest adventure about riding down a rickety raft in the Amazon jungle.

I said, what a marvelous dream you had. You became very upset and told me it wasn't a dream--that you were truly there! You said, "Mommy I wished I could be with Grandpa Joe with all my heart.  I wished and prayed very, very hard and then I was there!"

I thought you must have had a doozy of a dream and left it alone. Later that afternoon I drove out to Kingsbrook to see my dad. He was beaming! He went on and on about the visit he'd had from his little Jo. He even showed me the booklet you made him. Me and Grandpa Joe in the Amazon Jungle. I, of course, was speechless but I managed to ask him, "What was Jo wearing dad?"

He said, "A long plaid red and green nightgown with white kittens on the front. The four Kittens were all wearing blue mittens."  Not only was I stunned by my father's clarity but by his accuracy! Soon after he ended up recovering and moving back home for several years before passing away peacefully in his sleep.

Jo! Do you understand? You went to your Grandfather! You have this ability--a gift. You missed him so much you went to him in your spirit. It was the first time you um... teleported.

The first time? I closed the book. I remember bits and pieces of my Grandpa Jo. His smile. His corny jokes. The warm way he made me feel. When we were together he treated me as if I were the only person on the planet. We had a special bond. However I do not remember time traveling or teleporting is it? I vaguely remember dreaming about him... If I were still in my bed, how could I visit my grandpa an hour a way?  Mom why are you telling me this? I opened the journal and continued reading.

There was another instance when you were 7. This time is scared the pants off me! (Maybe that's why I never wear pants anymore? Teehee...) Anyway, at the time you had a school best friend named Wendy. You'd come home from the second grade and it was "Wendy this... " and "Wendy that..." I remember her because you said she had thick blond hair and was as pretty as a picture only she wasn't mean like the other pretty girls in your class. You told me at recess you two would go off to the far end of the playground and make up stories and act them out. Sometimes Tony Ortiz would join you. I remember thinking what a wholesome thing to do. While everyone else was playing on their DS or Gameboy you three were using your imagination. Very rare these days. After second grade Wendy and her family moved to Fort Lauderdale. You were very sad that summer--devastated even. You became even more withdrawn than usual.

I said you could call and text Wendy as much as you like but you complained, "It's not the same mom!"

On a Sunday morning I went into your room to wake you up for church but you weren't in your bed. That was unusual because as you know by now you are not an early riser. You have a saying, "Even noon is too soon!"

I woke the whole household screaming, "Where's Jo?" No one could find you.  After searching an hour or so we called the police. Dad, Grandma and your sisters had the whole neighborhood out looking for you. Do you remember?

Honestly, I don't remember...
Finally we receive a phone call from Wendy's mother.  Apparently you and Wendy had a sleepover without asking her permission and Mrs. Grant was letting me know. She asked, "So what are you and the family doing in Florida?" IN FLORIDA????? I stammered and nearly fainted on the brick linoleum floor! Once I recovered I made up some story about your father having business there (he did, I wasn't lying. His business was retrieving you!) I asked if it would be okay for you to stay a few more hours.

Your father was on the next plane from Islip, NY  to Fort Lauderdale.

I can't believe you don't remember this Jo. Is any of it real to you? Your father and I barely discuss it. We had a serious talk with you about not running off or imagining yourself elsewhere ever again. And as far as I know there weren't any other instances. But I think it could still happen. I believe if you want to or truly need to you can go wherever it is you want. When you were a child we were so afraid and squashed this ability in you as best as we could but now...

Now you're grown Jo.

My fear (although perfect love does cast out fear right?) My CONCERN is that you have left your childlike faith. Through all your university reading and worldly philosophy you have let a tiny bit of doubt creep in. Doubt can start as small as a spider but soon it'll take on legs and cloud your mind with fuzzy spiderwebs...

Brain fog? Writer's block. Like I've just woken up from the most magnificent dream and it fades away by the time I step into the shower?

I needed a moment. I needed to escape. I turned on the flat screen TV and watched the news. A new virus out of China... from bats? I saw people shaking violently from fever, hundreds of them on ventilators. President Trump assured those of us in the US needn't worry... That it's China's virus and he'd stop any sick people from crossing our borders.

I turned off the television. I hate television. It got me thinking though... China is building a 1000 bed hospital in Wuhan to house all it's patients. The US is sending them medical supplies and ventilators. Did mom have this disease? The president assures us it's not on US soil--yet. He didn't say "Yet..." but he might as well have. He's stopping all planes coming in from China and now since there are a growing number of cases in Italy--Europe is being banned too.

Dread washed over me. Did mom die from this Corona crap? She was otherwise healthy. She had no contact with the outside world. She did have plans to visit Italy in the fall but now that will never happen. She lived on Long Island. She ventured to The Christmas Store and King Kullen and that's about it. Wait... hold up... Mom gave piano lessons. Maybe one of her students had gone to Asia or Europe for Christmas? Nah... I'm reaching. It's a stretch... They're not doing testing in the US so I may never know. Mom is dead and buried. It's probably just a coincidence.

I want to sleep. I want to forget. I wish it were Thanksgiving and we were eating yams piled with toasted marshmallows and mom's famous mile high apple pie with the flaky crust. Oh Mom, you wanted me to learn that recipe but I was too busy writing, too busy visiting friends, too busy for you mom. I'm so sorry.

I opened the journal and almost fainted.

Dear Jo,

Mom's Mile High Apple Pie Recipe
6 granny smith apples, peeled and chopped
Toasted walnuts
1 cup of brown sugar
A ¼ cup of corn starch
2 tsp of cinnamon
Top and bottom pie crust (go ahead by these premade or ask Amy how to make from scratch!)
1 egg (for egg wash)

You wash eggs?

I dropped the journal. Once I regained some composure I found the page.

The details for the Mile High Apple Pie recipe is on the following page. One tip! Always pre-heat the oven. (Always be ready.) I hope you can make this next Thanksgiving for Dad and your sisters. It's not hard if you follow the directions to a T. Baking is like life. You must weigh and measure if you want it to come out correctly. There are no coincidences, however there are consequences.

I ripped off a piece of paper from the tiny Ramada Inn notepad on the desk and used it as a bookmark. I closed the journal and plopped back onto the bed and closed my eyes.  Mom's journal was baffling me. Was she talking about the past, present, future, recipe for pie or her recipe for life? Both! I needed a power nap. I needed my mom. Mom, you make the apple pie, I eat it. That was our deal remember? You broke the deal.

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