Thirteen years ago about this time I was going nuts.
This is the time of year that they announce the results of the summer Bar exam.
You take it around the last of July and then you have to wait until the first of November to find out if you passed or not.
The only thing worse than having to isolate myself to study for two months prior to the Bar exam was waiting for the results afterward.
I had this recurring nightmare during final exams in law school where I’m standing in line to get a test booklet outside the lecture hall. Slowly I begin to notice that everyone else has their textbook and notes ready to take in to the test.
Seems you could bring anything in to use during the test.
All I have is a pencil.
And no time to run home and get my stuff.
During the summer that I was preparing for the Bar exam, I had another dream.
A much sweeter dream.
At a time when I was filled with self-doubt.
In the dream I’m standing on the sidewalk in downtown Archer City, Texas, where my grandparents lived. The sun is shining, cars are going up and down the street in front of the courthouse and I’m about to go in the Golden Rooster restaurant when I look up and see a 1964 blue Ford Galaxy off in the distance, coming my way.
I recognize the car. It’s my grandparents’.
I stand and watch for a long time as the car slowly pulls up next to the sidewalk where I’m standing.
It begins to dawn on me that my grandmother is driving the car – just like she always did – and my grandfather is riding in the passenger seat.
Slowly they get out of the car, with her purse on her arm and his hat on his head and a cane in his hand, like always.
I know them instantly.
But I just stand there. And stare.
“Mammy, Papa, what are y’all doing here?” I ask them.
My grandmother waddles confidently around from the driver’s side of the car and steps up on the curb.
“Well, honey, we’re here to help you,” she says.
And with that we went into the restaurant where I’m sure I ordered fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy.
That had always helped me before.