peppermints, and a slice of life

The other day I had stopped at the gas station to fill my car up with gas, and as I was waiting in line, this older gentleman behind me, was counting change out for his cup of coffee. Upon waiting, I couldn’t help but smile and take that moment in, he smelled of my grandfather; a faint smell of peppermint and fresh crisp laundry. When I pulled away from the station to my small drive to work, I thought of being a small child bouncing on my grandfathers knees, and although young, remembering his smell. It was many years ago, that he passed away, but that is something I wouldn’t forget.
Little things, precious things as such are what carry me through a day.
Small hand prints on a glass door, the smell after a spring rain, the way my niece kisses me, coke from a glass bottle, or when someone I care about says my name. It sends a tickle through my heart.
Lilacs in May picked and cut into mason jars, fresh lemon aid on a warm summer evening and postcards of friends summer destinations.
My hand being held, a clear summer night for star gazing, and a song I hear on the radio in the car I know every word to.
I remember holding the medal you got in Korea, and asking so many questions. I was young, and didn’t understand, but the familiar tuck of head to the shoulder, it didn’t matter. You always reminded me everything was better with grandma’s cake. Ironic, it still works.
The simplest things like grandmothers’ cake, still keep me going. No matter the event whether I attend or not, grandma brings me her cake, with a slice of advice.
Watching Fathers teach their daughters catch in the lawn, or a simple run through a sprinkler bring reflection. Having my hair combed by someone other than myself, and kisses on the forehead move me.
A text from a friend, just saying hello, and a phone call before bed just to tuck me in, mean more than they ever know.
You spent several hours putting mom’s kitchen set back together, so I could mimic grandma in the kitchen. You spent so much time taping and painting that old set back together, only to realize I had more fun with just a pot and a pan. Long after you passed on, that picture of me in front of the stove brings a comfort all its own.
Having a home cooked meal, a picnic on the lawn, or lunch with a friend, more simple pleasures.
Capturing the sun rise and set through my camera, laughter of a child mid stream, and catching the unexpected element on tape. Grandfather, you were the first to allow me to hold your camera and pushed me to an aspiring career of pictures of caterpillars, the sky and the occasional dreamer.
I was only eight when he passed away, but amazing what the mind allows us to remember. How keen our senses really are when they are heightened. If it had not been for that man waiting for his coffee, I wonder how long it would have been before I craved grandmother’s cake, or yearned for your memory.
Treasure what makes you smile…