Marty is all about trying new things since he discovered butter beans at Easter dinner. Today at the grocery store he asked if he could try black-eyed peas. Now anytime one of my kids voluntarily asks to try a vegetable I'm all over it, so I grabbed a bag of frozen peas and headed home.
While we were eating I was telling the kids that they were one of my favorite foods (I don't ever cook them because up to now I had no one to share them with), while we were talking a memory that I had tucked away came creeping out. My Nannie used to serve her peas with small slivers of red peppers mixed in - you know the kind that will burn your lips off if you're not careful.
I know it may sound insignificant but it's one of those things I had forgotten about Nannie. When she died I swore I would never forget anything about her. During her many visits we shared a room. She snored so loud that it kept me awake most of the night, of course she said I talked to much she couldn't sleep either. My father was convinced one of us was exaggerating! She taught us songs with bad words and had the craziest sayings you have ever heard (S*&t in one hand and wish in the other and see which fills up first). We used to chase her around the backyard holding a frog, her screaming and laughing all the time.
I adored her.
Tonight my son's dinner request brought back a little piece of a wonderful woman who meant the world to me. The gift of a memory is a rare and wonderful thing, thanks Marty.
Down here it's tradition to eat black eyed peas on New Year's Day. It's supposed to bring good luck, good health, good fortune in the year to come. It's the only time I eat them. I loved reading about your grandmother. It brought back some fun memories of mine (she snored, had wacky sayings, was the most wonderful grandmother). I don't think we forget memories, I think they are just tucked away until we need to remember them. Great post.
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