I was recently able to spend some time at my parent’s house. In the last 14 years or so I haven’t spent much time at their house. They moved out of Utah right after I graduated from high school and we haven’t lived close since. I have seen them often but they usually come to me. When they’re at my house we tend to do things the way we do in our house as opposed to the way they would do it at their house.
Well, being at their house brought back many memories of growing up. Things that I had totally forgotten about. One night we were there my Mom made spaghetti for dinner. Along with it she made garlic bread out of hot dog buns. It totally brought me back to my youth. Growing up in a family of 12, food never went to waste. We often had hot dog or hamburger bun toast, etc. Now I’m kicking myself for all of the moldy hot dog buns I’ve thrown away because I didn’t use them.
A few days ago I was at the grocery store and saw some granola bars on sale. They were the kind that my mom always bought then hid in her closet. I remember many times going into her closet and trying to find treats, either the Sunbelt granola bars or Little Debbie treats. Sometimes we would even find Christmas or birthday presents that she had hidden in there and then forgotten about. The granola bars came home with me.
I’ve also thought of how we used to answer the phone. I always had to answer it “Hello, Smith residence, Heather speaking.” When I got older it was just “Smith residence” but that is how we all answered. I used to wonder why we had to do that. Everyone else just said “hello” and were done with it. Then it was weird when I went to college and just said “hello” when I answered the phone. Now we are just a “hello” family, or even just “hi” if one of the boys answer. I should probably teach them some phone manners.
It’s funny to me what we remember from our youth and what we don’t. I love it when happy, fun memories come back to me. It guess it’s worth forgetting them so that I can have the joy of remembering again.
What are some of your favorite memories from growing up?
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Dad’s toast. I didn’t like oatmeal unless there was toast to eat it on. It was always the cheap-o “wheat” bread and Dad would make a stack of it and put it on the table for us. There was something about the way the butter soaked into the cheap-o bread and then stayed a little bit warm on that stack that I can never duplicate. I loved that toast. (And the Dad who always made us breakfast and the Mom who was always knee deep in whatever other project that kept her from making us breakfast).