How come memories don’t taste as good when you get older?
When we were little and Grandma and Grandpa came to visit, they always brought Kentucky Fried Chicken for dinner. It was the most delicious chicken ever. Mom never made fried chicken, she always baked it so fried was a treat in itself. Every once in awhile, I will pull into KFC and get some chicken and I wonder what happened to the chicken I remember.
Chex root beer is the same way. When we went to Grandma’s, she would always give us Chex root beer, in the can, with a straw. None of us seem to know why she gave us a straw, she just did. I remember her spreading a sheet on the floor and making us all sit on it and drink our root beer. It was the best root beer ever. A few months ago I bought a can for a treat and didn’t like it at all. (Sorry Winn Dixie!)
I remember leftover night was one of the best dinners of the week. We would have a dab of this and a dab of that and we got to pick what we wanted to eat. It was usually guaranteed that you would have a dinner that you actually liked. I loved leftover night. Today, John and I have to force ourselves to eat the leftovers. Now that really could have something to do with my cooking versus my mom’s but I don’t like to think of it that way!
One memory that I still love is when mom made pie crust cookies. Whenever she made a pie, she would make extra dough and roll it out and sprinkle it with cinnamon and sugar and bake it. We all loved those cookies as much as the pie that was coming later.
M&M’s are also a memory I still love. Grandma and Aunt Clare used to bring M&M’s in their purses for us. We didn’t get candy very often and I don’t remember anyone who did. I still love plain M&M’s like crazy. Peanut too!
Once a year, when Grandma and Aunt Clare were in town, they would take us girls out to lunch. This was a huge treat; I don’t remember ever going out to lunch except with them. We would dress up in our Sunday best and go to A Bit of Sweden or The Swedish House, which were Smorgasbords. I would get so excited that I would throw up in the car. Then I was too sick to eat and I suspect everyone else was too. I always had to sit by the car window.
Where did that excitement of life go? I can’t believe that I have done everything there is to do and there is nothing left to get me that excited. OK, I don’t really want to throw up anymore but to be so excited about doing something that you can’t contain yourself! Does that go away with maturity? I don’t want it to; I want to feel like that again. About something! Do I get so stuck in a rut that I have forgotten to have that kind of fun? Or have I spoiled myself to the point that nothing is special anymore? I think I need to find a way to get back in touch with the little things, the simple pleasures, like sipping a Chex soda on the living room floor. Maybe it was never the soda or the chicken. Maybe it was just something different that made me feel special on the inside. Hmmm, guess I will have to work on that.