Years have past since I was last in Pittsburgh. I was here once in college, I think. I have photos. Most of my memories are from childhood. I rarely call upon these memories, but when I do, I see my grandma with a big smile, happy to see us; my aunts and uncles; my cousins; the tiny, windy roads viewed out the backseat car windows; the color green. We used to catch fireflies; I loved watching them glow like stars in the sky. We used to play with the secret door in my grandma's old house, the laundry door that connected the closet to the next room. I used to push Charlotte around in a stroller, and look at pictures with my grandma.
My family used to make regular trips to Pittsburgh every two or three years, but, well, great distances, travel expenses and busy schedules made it difficult to visit more as we got older.
And now, this time, my trip to Pittsburgh was sadly for the purpose of attending my grandmother's Memorial Service. My grandmother passed away in April. Despite the sad circumstances, it was a nice time revisit Pittsburgh and remember the life of Ann Hershey in the company of several branches of my family tree. Family reunions are cherished whenever they do come.
