It's funny how memory works. Sometimes it just takes a whiff of something in the air or the shortest bit of sound to take you back to a special time from your past. I love those moments.
Like when I smell carmel-corn and remember the popcorn shop that was near the studio we took dance classes in California.
Or the exact notes the harp plays on the introduction to the Waltz of the Flowers from the Nutcracker Suite.
And the way a new plastic babydoll smells fresh out of the box.
Everyone has their own list of items that give them instant deja vue. There are also specific things that we kids grew up with that would make us say "Aww" today.
Like Dad's Tin Lizzy that played the song Tijuana Taxi.
And the peppermill that we used forever. Even when Mom & Dad got fancier upgrades as gifts or parts of a set, the old wooden box with the black bowl and crank on top is what we always used.
The ballerina lamps we had in California and Illinois. In my mind, I remember it was weird to have lamps that were just legs wearing ballet shoes and they were kinda ugly. But Mom seemed to love them and yelled like crazy when we rough-housed around them. (Through the years they got more and more chips and were eventually replaced).
The way we would count the blasts from the horn that called the volunteer firemen when we lived on Sturbridge Hill. We didn't know all the codes by heart (except the one for our street), but we could always figure out what area of town had a fire without looking at the chart.
And coming home from school to the smell of warm homemade bread that my grandmother made when she came to visit.
The artwork Mom & Dad kept in the living room made by us. There are two I specifically remember - the abstract blob of fired clay with sharp edges Barb made (she called it DisneyLand) and the sculpture Cheryl made of a kneeling child (she spent a long time taking photos of Susie from every angle before starting that piece).
The sound of the bell on Dad's ship's clock as it let us know what time it was every 15 minutes - no matter where in the house we were.
The geisha doll Dad brought home for Mom from Japan. The doll was never played with, but over the years was displayed and taken to school for show and tell until it became a little tattered and faded. Her face is still strong and beautiful. She was the start of Mom's foreign doll collection.
And of course Moses, whose bigger-than-life presence watched over us all those years. It was fitting then, and funny now, that Mom & Dad chose the biggest painting in the house to be a biblical figure holding the Ten Commandments.
Yes, so many memories tied to material treasures. Yet it isn't the objects that are precious. They are just reminders of time past in our lives. Some were happy times, some were not, but every minute we've lived is time we never get back. And our memories make us who we are today. Which, in my opinion, is pretty darn good!
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