#3 The Miracle of Paisley

As I do a pictorial and written rewind of my Mom & Me Europe Adventure, I have to spend a little more time on this one because of the amazing series of tender mercies we experienced.
After seeing Glasgow—my mother’s old “home” land—we spent the next and only day on the schedule going to Paisley (actually, we had only a morning). I hadn’t been there since I was a little girl and could hardly remember much. But the feeling of being back where I used to live over 40 years ago, right here in Scotland, I can’t describe. Like walking a winding path and continually looking around the corner to what was next—what would I see, what would it feel like, what would I remember?
The first tender mercy was finding the perfect cab driver. He pulled up to our hotel and we hopped in, not realizing he was divinely handpicked. We headed for a known landmark, my “primary” school as it’s called, Brediland as it was named, and found it still functioning (barely) after 50 years. Yes, I will say it—it was so SMALL. But as I stood in the corridor with the poster showing this year’s uniforms, I had to chuckle—theirs were CUTE. Mine had been a drab gray jumper with striped tie and thick black shoes (THAT I remember).

As we left and began driving, I mentioned to the cabbie that I had lived there (without my mother at the time) but lamented I didn’t know more about where. Out of the blue he asked what I remembered. I said, Nothing really. Then I added, almost laughingly, “A stinky creek, lots of dense foliage, and a white house. That’s it.”
Incredibly, he pauses, thinking, then looks at me in the rearview mirror and says, “I think I know where that might be.” Because it turns out he used to drive a bus years ago, IN THAT VERY SAME EXACT SPECIFIC AREA (30 minutes from where we had hired him). After a few minutes, we crest a hill and as we come down I see to the right a cobblestone wall with a white sign and black lettering: CROSS ROADS. And I start to cry. I remember seeing that sign every single day as I walked home from school (and yes, it really was miles and miles, uphill both ways, as the cabbie confirmed). That one amazing detail confirmed we were on the right path.

We turned onto the street. There it was, on the left, my childhood home—still there and still white. I jumped out of the car and ran to the side of the house to look down the back, ensuring it was the right house. Same sloped backyard, but best of all, the SAME STINKY CREEK SMELL! Who knew I would appreciate that 40 years later. We spent hours playing in that creek, imagination games and hide-n-seek, and all while in unknown desperate need of a Tetanus shot.

What a moment. I can’t express the core tender place this touched. Sights, sounds, experiences came back to me that I hadn’t remembered in years. For a minute I stood still and took it in, knowing I might never be back.
Afterward, I wished but couldn’t express my gratitude to that amazing, perfectly appointed cab driver for being part of giving me this Paisley miracle. And grateful again to be sharing this once-in-a-lifetime mother-daughter experience with my Scottish “mum”.
Best,
Connie