I just popped a can of Fresca as I'm sitting down to lunch, as the sound hits my ears, the memory of flights past come to mind. It's funny that this kinda thing seems to happen most often, not with family or familiar people or places, but to do with airports and flying.
If I catch the scent of perfumes mixed with a stale scent of cigarettes, parties don't come to mind, but walking through Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport does! I see the many different vendor stands and the casino passing through my mind just as when I druggedly walked through Schiphol....
Then of course there's the smell of brewing coffee that they always serve on airlines, which I HATE! Okay, that could be biased by the fact that the first few times I flew I was really really sick.... So that smell of coffee isn't so cool to me nowadays, though it is getting better now. Plus, flying no longer makes me sick, I think I was just nervous flying off to boarding school for the first few times :-P
Of course there are sounds, besides the sound of a pop can opening that bring memories to me. My favorite memory is triggered by a sound...
When I was between 5-10yrs old:
It's between 3 or 4am, I walk out of my room, I'm dressed in my night gown; the hallway is dark, but there is a faint orange glow coming from the living room fireplace as the fan system surrounding it breathes out warm air. There's only one kitchen light on, and Mom is working on Dad's lunch beneath its yellow gleams. Mom doesn't say a word, she just smiles at me.
I sit down on the edge of the bench of the picnic-style table Dad made and just sit and watch while Mom loads Dad's black lunchbox. Behind me, the wood stove seems to be humming a lullaby as some of the red embers darken and begin to sleep. My tired eyes still squinting, I am content. The humming lets me know it's a happy home.
I sit down on the edge of the bench of the picnic-style table Dad made and just sit and watch while Mom loads Dad's black lunchbox. Behind me, the wood stove seems to be humming a lullaby as some of the red embers darken and begin to sleep. My tired eyes still squinting, I am content. The humming lets me know it's a happy home.
After a few minutes, Mom says, "You can go back to bed now...." and smiles. Silently I walk back to my room where I fall asleep as the fireplace softly hums it's lullaby.
2 comments:
I love this post. I love it because it talks about home, and family, and warmth, and love, and all the things that we can so easily take for granted but are just as important to us as the air we breathe.
Thanks Gen :-)
When I'd started the post, I didn't plan that I'd tell that story, but it's such a strong memory :-) I love that memory, I "guard" and cherish it always. Whenever I hear a sound like the fan dad made for the stove, it brings me back momentarily and I'm sitting on the homemade bench again....
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