Bottled Nostalgia

I once wrote a poem in regards to bottling the memories of a loved one. Memories of smells, events, stories, and anything else that could be captured for later use or recollecting. This evening I accessed one of those bottled memories as I was preparing my supper and began thinking of the new memories that had been bottled since then. Each step taken, each breath breathed, each word spoken and listened to, and each thought contemplated has led me to where I sit tonight. From the supposed meaningless actions to the life altering decisions, not a single moment could be considered as ineffective.

Why then, do certain memories surface when they do even though they have had ample opportunities to do so previously? Tonight for instance, I was cooking bacon (as I often do) and memories flooded my brain of Sunday morning breakfasts at Gramma's house.

"How would you like your eggs?" Grampa would ask as the smell and sizzle of bacon lured us into the kitchen.

Meals have always been a big deal at Gramma's house, but Sunday mornings are Grampa's time to shine and he always has so much fun with it. So tonight, when the vision of him standing at the stove, tongs rotating the bacon and head slightly turned to ask his seemingly mediocre question, suddenly popped into my head and brought a smile to my face, I can't help but wonder what sparked that specific memory. There are so many memories I could share of bacon alone, it intrigues me to have that specific one come to mind.

Nevertheless, I took a happy trip down memory lane tonight as I created what should have been dinner for 5 on Saturday night. After setting fire to my burner cover (on Saturday) when turning on the wrong burner, pasta night was quickly debunked by this chef and taken over by my rescuer. I was a little leery to cook again but needed to use the ingredients I had set aside for the Spaghetti Carbonara. Guess it was all of divine intervention since the amount I ended up with after completing the creation would have never successfully fed 5 adults. Needless to say, memory lane switched locations when consumption began of this pasta dish. I found myself seated at my mothers table in Port Orchard, surrounded by all 4 siblings and my parents. So many memories surround that table...

If I had a bottle for every memory created, there wouldn't be a warehouse large enough to contain them.