I popped the top off a bottle of guava juice yesterday.
I caught a whiff.
And that little whiff transported me, for just a second, to
my Aunt Grace’s kitchen.
I’m not sure why. I’m fairly certain she didn’t keep bushels
of guavas.
But nevertheless, that’s what happened.
My Aunt Grace wasn’t really my aunt. She was actually
married to my Dad’s cousin. Which made her my dad’s cousin-in-law. And my
second cousin-in-law? Sooo, Second-Cousin-In-Law Grace? ‘Aunt’ was just easier.
Aunt Grace and her family lived on the next farm to my
family.
Which made us neighbours. A few miles apart.
I loved going to her house. Not only was her daughter,
Jeannie, one of my best friends, but there were always good eats emerging from
Aunt Grace’s huge kitchen.
Aunt Grace had a big bin that opened out from beneath her
lower cupboards. A bin full of flour. I had never seen anything like it and thought
it was the coolest thing ever. There also may have been a second bin full of
sugar, but I’m not certain so you didn’t read it here.
Ahem . . .
She was what I call a ‘dump’ cook. She would take a bowl,
dump a bunch of stuff in it (without measuring, I might add).
Stir.
 |
| Aunt Grace, Far left. |
Cake.
It would be burnt on one end because the oven wasn’t level.
But delicious everywhere else.
On the wall opposite the table, where one was guaranteed not
to miss it, Aunt Grace had a cat clock. I know you’ve seen them. A small black
and white cat. With a tail that swings as a pendulum and great, staring eyes
that go back and forth with every tick.
It was quite hypnotic.
Jeannie and I spent a lot of time in that kitchen. Eating
that food. Watching that clock.
 |
| Second from right. |
Aunt Grace was fun, funny and had the best, most infectious
laugh. She was a talented writer, a hoot
at parties and a warm and giving friend.
I loved being at her house. And I loved her.
She’s been gone nearly four years, but, for just a moment,
she and her kitchen were as clear as if I had just seen them moments ago.
Amazing, isn’t it, what can flash through one’s mind from
one. Single. Whiff.
The sense of smell is powerful! I get these flashes often. Your Aunt Grace sounds like a wonderful person to have as a relative while growing up. We soak up all those kindnesses and don't even know how lucky we are at the time. But now . . . now we know.
ReplyDeleteWe do! And she was wonderful!
DeleteYes, a smell can take you back in time.......
ReplyDeleteInstantly! It's pretty amazing, actually . . .
DeleteOh yes. Scent and memory are very, very close.
ReplyDeleteAnd how lovely to be reminded of someone who sounds so special.
She really was. I can hear her laugh to this day!
DeleteClever way to tie this post together. It's a good way to remember family. I'm sure your rellies would enjoy this.
ReplyDeleteI'm sure hoping so! Sending it to her daughter today! :)
DeleteSuch a kind face. It's amazing how scents can transport us through time. It's happened to me, too. I get transported, from time to time, back to my grandmother's kitchen in the Bronx.
ReplyDeleteI'd love to hear more, Alana!
Delete"Aunt Grace was fun, funny and had the best, most infectious laugh. She was a talented writer, a hoot
ReplyDeleteat parties and a warm and giving friend.
I loved being at her house. And I loved her."
I want to be just like your Aunt Grace :)
I think you already are!
DeleteWonderful memories you have.
ReplyDeleteReal eggs in mud pies??
My mum would have sent me to bed without dinner for such wastage.
Yeah. Not sure what the consequences would have been for us. We were very, very sneaky . . .
Delete