Memory

Memory is a funny thing.  Moments that mean the world to us are forgotten completely by others.  Facts get easily muddled, images get blurred.  

In my last post I talked about my grandpa making breakfast.  It seems that oatmeal is something almost all of his children and grandchildren remember him for.  And another memory that keeps popping up is how if you were losing a tooth, grandpa would tell you that if you could keep your tongue out of the space, the new tooth would grow in gold.  He even had gold teeth to prove it!

Like any kid could ever keep from sticking their tongue in the spot!

So these memories, which felt so special and rare, are reminding me that one of my grandpa's best qualities was making each person feel special and like you were the most important and loved human being on the face of the whole earth.  He was amazing.

But back to breakfast.

I remember the oatmeal.  I remember the stacks of toast.  I remember cracked wheat, which he would make from scratch using whole wheat kernels and was quite an extensive process.

But my distinct memory is one morning eating boiled wheat.  Whole wheat kernels which had been simply boiled in water and drizzled with honey.  I remember the light filtering into the kitchen.  I remember grandpa, cheerful and kind as ever serving me my cereal.  I remember how safe and loved I felt.  It was a really stressful time in my life and grandpa made me feel like it would be okay.

I don't know if he ran out of time to make cracked wheat that morning or if he was out of oatmeal.  It doesn't really matter,
I knew he cared.