Remembering ...

I often wonder what memories my kids will keep in their mental pockets and which ones will be long forgotten.

I think about the things I can remember from my childhood. Those memories make me so happy.

I can remember cooling off in a big spaghetti pot in my Grandparent's backyard during the heat of the summer because they didn't have a sprinkler or a pool. My Grandmother would make home made bubbles for me and while I played and splashed in the pot, we would both blow bubbles at each other. I can still smell the dish soap and even the water, for that matter. I used to think my Grandmother's hands were magic. She could stick them into the hottest water I have ever felt when she washed dishes. She told me her hands got used to it. Mine never did. OUCH! She always had beautiful nails and the softest skin. The sharp distant sound of a ball cracking a baseball bat on TV with a roar of a crowd still gives me warm goosebumps. I can still remember the feeling of laying in bed in the dark, hearing the low rumble of the window fan and hearing the Red Sox baseball game echo through the house.

There are so many memorable times with my other Grandparents too. In the morning, my Grandmother and I listened to Bob Steele on her little radio in the nook. In the afternoon, we watched old movies in her kitchen on a small black and white TV while she made her sauce or soup or some other special recipe for dinner. I tried to watch my Grandmother's every move in order to remember how she did things. Reheat macaroni in a pan on the stove, water from the tea kettle goes into the pan, wipe your hands on your apron when they get dirty. I remember trying to memorize it all. I used to stand behind her while she was at the sink and would straighten her shirt for her. She always told me that was such a big help. I remember the smell of my Grandparents basement, whether it was considered to be a good smell or not, I can still recognize the smell today and again, it's a comfort to me. The silence of golf makes me think of my Grandfather. That may not make any sense to you, but it does to me. Music was especially important in this house too. And a certain kind of music makes me feel like a little girl again dancing with my Grandfather. You must have reminders or triggers of memories too that would make no sense to others, but make you feel warm and comforted.

The first house I really remember living in... A warm summer day, I remember snapping the ends off of string beans with my Mother in our kitchen. A cold, winter, snowy day, I can still smell fresh wood burning in the neighborhood fireplaces. That smell still to this day reminds me of when I was little in that house. The sound of a chainsaw in the wintery distance cutting up wood. Again, when I hear this sound today, I think about winter and when I lived in that first house. Playing in the driveway on my bike, the sound a bouncing ball made on the sidewalk that went to the back of the house. I remember long walks through the woods in the back with my father and the sound of the leaves crunching under our feet. I remember the fun little noises my Mother used to make when we were in a hurry just to make it more fun for us. I loved the smell of my Mother's wool brown coat when she would pick me up after work. I loved to cuddle with both of my parents when they were together. That was one of my favorite things and they knew it. They would say "It's cuddle time!" And we would cuddle together on the couch at night.

I think of little sayings, stories and songs from my childhood and how much they mean to me now like "Snug as a bug in a rug" "I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck" "Soups on!" "You're full of cheese" Singing Christmas songs. Singing all of the words to the Annie soundtrack with my Mother and sister. Going to baseball games and to the movies with my family.

So when I think of these crazy memories of mine with odd details, I wonder what will spark my children's memories of me and B and their Grandparents. Will they remember the good times? The crazy times? The times they fell to the floor in a complete and utter melt down because I combed their hair or put a shirt on them with buttons?

Will they remember our rides home from preschool every day? Will they remember the talks we have had about stop lights, pot holes and what exactly UPS does? I hope they remember taking walks with me around the neighborhood on warm days, playing hide and seek behind the big trees in the back yard, our daily races around the house outside, doing the laundry together, our trips to Stew Leonards, making tents in the family room and all of our wild adventures.

I hope they remember all the times with their Grandparents like Wednesdays with Nana either at our house or hers, playing hide the seven dwarves, putting up seasonal stickers on the windows and special times in the back yard filling bird feeders and swinging on the hammock with Pepa. Beach weekends with Pepa P and E in Rhode Island and playing with the drums and spider at their house. And special times at the park, museums, hiding the apples in their living room, the trampoline and yearly hayride with Memee and Papa.

Fruit snacks, puzzles, painting together, coloring books, errands, grocery shopping, recycling, the car wash, Rita's, apple picking, playing the wii, picnics in the backyard, movie night, popcorn, cupcakes with rainbow frosting, playing in the sprinkler, riding bikes in the driveway, the way we kiss goodnight in a special way, songs we sing and stories we read. Moments I will never forget and I just wonder if they will remember them too. I hope they will. What will spark those memories; a smell, a feeling, a sound or a simple word or remark? I wonder.