Sleepover at Grandma and Grandpa Rasmussen's House!

Last night I had an unexpected experience. But before I tell you about it, I must begin with what happened earlier in the evening. Over delicious chocolate sheet cake after dinner, Grandma Rasmussen asked me if I would be seeing my chiropractor the following morning. Yes, I replied. She then informed – didn’t ask – me that the bed in her guestroom would be all ready for me to spend the night. Wow, I thought. With mom and dad’s very full house, I was prepared to throw the old green mattress pad down in whatever random place that would suit me at the time and try to sleep. (At least I brought my own pillow.) And here, I had this amazing offer to spend the night in my own room in a peaceful and quiet, and DARK environment to get some MUCH needed sleep. Not only did Grandma invite me to stay the night last night, but ANY time, unless there were other houseguests. And so, while everyone was watching Star Trek II (The Wrath of Khan), which I just cannot bring myself to watch again because it came very close to being the first movie to give me nightmares, I gleefully trotted my way across the yard and entered my new bedroom. And this is where the unexpected begins, although in retrospect, I should not have been surprised.

Grandma and Grandpa, both separately and together, spent a few minutes reminding me of where the nightlights were and which door locks were engaged, and instructing me to feel free to open/close the bedroom blinds. Grandma left for a minute, and while she was gone, Grandpa shut the door slightly to reveal a beautiful picture of his “dear mama, Katie Johanna.” (His words.) He told me about how she had died from some hemorrhaging shortly after childbirth when Grandpa was 14 years old. He described to me a moment at the graveside, where after looking down into the grave he heard in his mind something to the effect of, “This is not the last time you’ll see me.” (I can’t remember the exact words, but it was a beautiful sentiment.) He said he felt such comfort from those words at that time and continues to feel so now as he sees family and friends go. It was a short conversation, but one I’ll never forget. Grandma then returned and asked if I’d spent the night there before. Yes, I replied, but I think mostly in the basement. The last time I remembered being in that room was when I was in 7th grade and had a sleepover with (cousin) Gretchen Mills. We stood there for a moment as I reviewed that night in my mind. It really HAD been a long time since I'd had a sleepover at any of my grandparents' homes, and I was starting to feel kind of giddy about it. What fun! And then we had a group hug good-night.

I shut the door and sat on the bed in a very reflective mood. It felt strange, but in a good way, to be there again 20 years later; to be loved and cared for like that; to be able to have that conversation with Grandpa. I took a turn around the room (sort of) looking at all the pictures of aunts, uncles, and cousins through the years and retrieving many dormant memories of my own from some of those days. I thought about how amazingly beautiful and handsome the Rasmussen girls and boy! were (and still are!), and how lucky all of us cousins were to be in such a wonderful family. I also looked carefully at the pictures of Sue, Paul, and Gary and enjoyed seeing them in their 20s -- they also looked (and look) amazing, too! And then I found myself musing on the old Chapel Circle home where I had spent several nights as a child, having conversations with the grandparents just like last night’s conversation, looking at these pictures and feeling the same things I was feeling last night. Those days are long past, but the memories from the Chapel Circle home are as clear to me as if they’d happened last night. I then thought about this current home and all the wonderful times I’ve had there. I opened the closet doors and stood by the sewing machine, thinking about the many hours I spent there working on junior high and high school sewing projects and other Christmas projects, realizing how dumb I am now when it comes to sewing, but loving the memories of those days. I walked into the bathroom and saw the same green, pink, yellow and white clothes-pins on the towel rack that I’ve known my whole life from both homes. Sometimes they were holding nylons – last night it was sachet bags. Before turning out the light I started browsing through the home magazines (Better Homes and Gardens, Colonial Homes, etc.) in the bedroom and the basket in the bathroom and was suddenly back to my teen years when I had spent hours perusing those magazines, imagining that every single picture of the many rooms in those magazines were actually rooms from my dream house. And before I knew it, there I was last night on the bed flipping through those same magazines, just like I did 10 and 20 years ago. I own my home now, so I don’t have to imagine a dream home, but I still loved looking at the pictures.

And so the night went on like that. In many ways I felt like I’d just had a Christmas Carol experience where I was literally seeing shadows of my past, but unlike Scrooge, I loved every second of it. I felt like the world was perfect. Everything was silent, including my brain, which was a miracle. I felt a complete peace. I was in a home with grandparents who unconditionally loved me and where I was surrounded with memories and reminders of very happy moments in my life. And with that, I fell asleep.