I don’t know if it’s my pregnancy hormones or what, but things are starting to make me weep at the drop of a hat. All it took was for me to open a bag of goldfish.

As soon as the salty fragrance hit me, I was in their basement. I was a child and I was reaching for the bag of goldfish in their pantry. My grandparents always had goldfish {usually at least 2 bags}. Whenever we opened a new bag, my grandfather would throw a few shakes of salt into the bag {as if they need any more salt}. I can see the saltshaker: glass, silver top, with rice inside {to keep it from clumping}.

I miss that basement.

We did everything in that basement.

It was where my grandmother made Sunday dinners.

It was where we ate Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve dinner.

It was where she would always yell at me to put socks on.

It was where we would have sleepovers on the pull-out couch and watch the Olympics.

It was where I used to spend my days when I was sick.

I miss that basement.

The smells, the sounds, the over-crowding!

I miss the nail file in the glass bowl on the side table.

I miss the Spear-O-Mint gum in the console drawer.

I miss the wafer cookies in the cookie jar.

I miss the “naughty” ash tray {that I never quite understood}.

I miss the Whether Originals in the candy dish.

But most of all, I miss them.


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