Isn’t it funny how a little thing can trigger a memory? I am always amazed at how they flood back…how could I have forgotten this or that? But I have not thought of it until something pulls it from the files of my mind. I guess that goes to show how very amazing our brains are, huh?
Recently, I was standing at a table of assorted fruits, nuts and candy that was set up in the building I work in. I looked over all the treats when my eye fell on a package of Maple Nut Goodies. Immediately, I was transported back in time…way back…all the way back to Sears at the mall. My sister and I are standing in front of the candy case. Do you remember the candy case, where you bought candy by the pound? There was malt balls and bridge mix and chocolate covered peanuts…all kinds of candy. And Maple Nut Goodies. Every once in a while my mother would let us get a bit of candy from the case. It was expensive, even back then so it was a real treat. And my sister’s favorite was the Maple Nut Goodies. Affectionately named by Brach’s.
Today on the way to work, my mind was drifting over a conversation I recently had with my son and how he remembered as a very young child, an argument that my husband and I had and how Ricky had slammed the front door and broke the glass. I don’t think Zak was any more than 6 yrs. old but that memory is one that stuck with him. Not one that either Ricky or I would be proud of either. But we all know marriage has it challenges here and there, don’t we? And I wondered to myself if Zak remembers the time he threw a rock from our gravel driveway and hit a passing truck and broke the guy’s windshield. What about the first time he rode his bike down our gravel driveway in a blue coat zipped up tight with the hood snugly tied around his face? Or the time that he stuffed his pant pockets full of toys from the Christian bookstore and I made him go back with me the next day and return them. We got to the mall before the store opened and we sat on the bench inside the mall and waited for them to raise the chain gate up. The man at the register had told me “It’s OK” and I had said “It’s not OK.” I wonder if my son remembers those things. I can’t erase the image of the glass door breaking, but I’m hoping that there are other memories tucked away in the pockets of his mind that show how much we adore him. And I’m hoping when little things appear, and that memories slips to the surface, he will remember it with fondness and a profound love. Like I do mine.