"There's Always a Dry Side to a Swing"

So... I accidentally just did something kind of emo. I drove by my grandma's old apartment on my way home from Starbucks tonight.

I know. It doesn't sound particularly emo. But...

She died when I was 9. We were really close for those first 9 years of my life. I would spend a lot of my summer with her. And what's weird is that she wasn't living in the apartment that I drove by at the time of her death. I drive by that apartment almost every day because it's a block away from my house. That one doesn't phase me so much. I think it's because I've gotten used to it.

But I drove by that old apartment tonight for the first time in a long time and realized I couldn't really remember the layout of it. Once I realized that, my eyes filled with tears. How could I not remember something that was a huge fixture in my childhood? I remember the living room and the awful green carpet that used to be in there. I remember the kitchen. I remember the basement, and the time my dad and uncle accidentally flooded it. I remember the back patio and the beautiful gardens we used to work in, but probably mostly from pictures. I remember the hammock. I remember the garage. But I can't remember the bedrooms or anything. I remember a hallway and a mirror but I can't remember the bedrooms or anything. I don't remember how the living room was set up. I vaguely remember coloring in a coloring book while the OJ Simpson trials were going on, and I remember watching 'Fern Gully' and trying to do handstands, and I remember asking her to tape the Oscar's for me once.

That's about all I remember. And that's scary. I pride myself for having a really good memory, but how good can it be if I can't remember such an important part of my growing up?

And then, as it always does when I think about her for a long time, a question enters my mind. It's haunting, really, because there's no way I could ever find an answer to it. But if there's one thing I'd love to know, it's if she would be proud of me. A lot has changed in 8 years. She was the one that got me into acting. I'm sure she thought that's what I'd be doing right now, and what I wanted to be when I grew up. Would she be disappointed that never really worked out for me? Would she be proud of who I am? Of what I've done? Of who my friends are?

Sometimes, I don't know. I really don't know. And I want to. I want to know. Would we still be close? Would I make her proud? What kind of adventures would we have together if she was still around? What would she have been like before my first high school dance? What would she have thought of Power of the Pen?

Would I be different if she had lived longer?

And I know that's a lot more questions than just the one I referenced earlier. But the only one I'd really love an answer to is 'would she be proud of me?' The rest of them I think I can pretty much figure.

I just want to know.

I have to go to bed. I feel sick now. Sorry about all that.