I have always had a fascination with memories and how they are triggered. The other day my husband snuggled up behind me after his shower and I was instantly transported to Cancun where we spent our honeymoon. He has a particular cologne that he took with him on that trip that for some reason stands out in my mind. I am not even sure of the name of it, but he has hoarded it over the years and every once in a while he surprises me with a little mini vacation. The smell of Royal Copenhagen and leather also reminds me of our dating years; of who and what we were to each other back then... This morning I heard a snippet of the song, "Time in a Bottle" by Jim Croche and for a second I could see myself sitting in Swenson's ice cream parlor having an after dinner sundae with him. I have probably heard that song thousands of times... and eaten sundaes at that restaurant dozens of times. Why that particular memory??? I have no idea, except that I distinctly remember hearing it playing over the sound system while we were there at some point.
The sharp, almost bitter smell of a new born baby's head before its first bath will always remind me of Daniel. The sweetness of baby lotion and powder makes me think of Brian and Bethany and Madison as I bathed their sweet babyness.
My dad's mother lived in a very old wood framed farm house in Iowa when I was a child. She has been gone for the better part of twenty years now, but the smell of an old wood house or the raspberries that she grew in her garden and I am a puddle of tears. Her birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks and she has been close in my thoughts. When I close my eyes and drift into sleep, right before it overtakes me... I can almost remember the sound of her voice. The ticking sound of an old wind up mantle clock reminds me of the nights that I spent buried in her feather mattress listening to her reading to me. I remember that she had a book about birds and the sounds that they make and I was so fascinated that the chickadee made the sound of its own name. I remember the sounds of dad and mom and grandma talking in the next room while that very same clock chimed out the hours. I remember how when I was fifteen and was so hurt by something that Dad had said to me that I was crying like a baby... how she held me and told me the truth. How she had seen his love for me and his hurt at the separation that divorce had brought. I remember her quirkiness at hoarding foil tv trays for some unknown reason and her love for gardening and how she could talk your head slap off!! I remember walking with her into town because she didn't drive and going to bingo with her and her senior citizen group while she proudly showed me off. It pains me that my kids can never really share in these memories.
Happy birthday, Grandma. I love you & I miss you so much...
God grant that I become half the woman that you were.