I have the strongest and fondest memories of spending time with them in their home on Dartmouth Avenue. So I sat and thought of my cousins, of the pool in their backyard, and of the screened-in porch where we children ate during the summer. I remember the books spilling from shelves in every room, my aunt's zucchini bread, the laughter, and the exotic treasures collected on their travels, especially the Russian nesting dolls. I thought of the Baskin-Robbins ice cream shop down the street, Daiquiri Ice sherbet, and Silly String fights.
When I heard the Blue Jays this morning, it brought all this back in an instant warm rush of nostalgia. Did my aunt and uncle ever imagine they were collecting things and building a life so full and rich that I now long to remember? And did they ever imagine the unlikely role Blue Jays would play in reminding me? Aunt Marge and Uncle Erv are no longer with us, but the Blue Jays bring all this home for me, and I find myself awash in early morning memories.