Memories

 

I had forgotten how moving opens up the door to walk down memory lane. Each box has something that holds a memory. Since we had a moving company pack for us, I was often surprised by what I would find unpacking. I found treasures the kids had made me in school, sweet cards from friends, pictures that never made it into an album, my high school sweater and every receipt, napkin and ticket stub from our honeymoon and after. Fond memories that I hope to keep forever, though probably don't need to keep every gum wrapper to every stick of gum  I've chewed. 

More recently, I have discovered, though always knew this to be true, that sounds and smells open up those memory flood gates as well. For example, I cannot listen to Bob Segar without it taking me back into my Volkswagen bug driving around Norco at the all knowing age of 17. Or Boz Scaggs puts me on the boat at Lake Havasu. Reba McEntires "This Christmas" takes me to Granite Bay where I began seeking the really meaning of Christmas and it still brings me to tears. 

Then there are smells. I remember when Jacqueline moved away to college and the first time I saw her a couple of months later, I buried my face in her hair and took in her smell. Sounds weird I know but, I missed her and her sweet smell. I can be out shopping and smell a perfume that reminds me of someone. Orange blossoms remind me of Spring time playing softball in Corona with my dad as my coach and that will make me crave a Winchell's donut because we always stopped to get one before game day. 

Yesterday,  I knew I wanted to do something special for Jim. He had been working very hard and been out of town for a couple of nights. I  wanted him to walk into the warmth of home and a home cooked meal and I needed to create that smell of home. I  was on the phone with my mom and asked her what kind of roast I should get, because nothing smells "home" like beef. And no one cooks beef better than my mom. And being a non meat eater,  I'm  not always sure  how to buy these things. She gave me a recipe for a pot roast, I bought the ingredients, popped it in the oven and within an hour the entire house smelled just like my grandmas house when we would go for a visit. It took me back. It made me crave those big orange circus peanuts. She always had those in a candy dish for me, they were my favorite. My grandpa and dad would most likely play a game of cribbage. A game I still don't understand and I'm not even sure my dad enjoyed it. I think he just played for my grandpa in hopes to build a relationship and a memory with his father in law.  He is giving like that. My grandma would go about fussing in the kitchen and probably sneak outside for a cigarette thinking no one would know. Frank Sinatra or Elvis Presley would be playing if she could get grandpa to turn off the football game. And even though I would eat a bowl of cream of wheat for dinner, I loved the smell of that pot roast cooking all day. To me, it has nothing to do with the meal itself, especially since I don't eat beef. It's the event, the time shared with people you love and the making of memories and ok, the big orange circus peanuts! 

 Life is precious and it is flying by. I think David said it best in Psalms " “Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. Remind me that my days are numbered— how fleeting my life is. You have made my life no longer than the width of my hand. My entire lifetime is just a moment to you; at best, each of us is but a breath.” I want to continue to make memories so that our kids can look back . That whenever Jarrod hears Credence  Clearwater Revival's Rolling on the River, it will take him back to Las Vegas on his way to school everyday with us in my Toyota  Camary  singing at the top of our lungs. That the sound of a smoke alarm will remind them that mom burned the bread again and the sweet smell of a home cooked meal, burnt bread and all,  will remind them of home and the people that love them. Life is but a breath... #breathingitin