The "coo" is one of three sounds that instantly transport me back - to summers in Long Island. I've mentioned the crunch of gravel and then there's the whistle of a train.
I closed my eyes and crawled deeper into my nest of ironed, crisp, luxurious sheets. The window is open and I hear someone walking the driveway. It's probably the gardener. He walks the grounds, babying the roses and dressing them for the day. He snips a few for Mimi's breakfast tray and various vignettes around the house.
It dawns on me how summers there were not only vacation but a much needed respite (def.: "an interval of rest or relief"). As a young girl I knew I needed it. Craved it. But NOW I know....it was a relief. Such a relief to flee from the tension I felt at home. This is my perception - my memory. Recently, one of my brothers and I reminisced and learned we had varying and VERY different perceptions of our childhood.
Thankfully we stopped before the hurts hurt more but I should have said how dare you? How dare you tell me what to think, or what to remember. I know what I know:
Getting away from home was heaven. Summer at Mimi's was a haven.