Cinnamon Memories

Dear G-pa,

I miss you. Young at heart

Sometimes I forget that you’re gone, aided by the distance between Texas and Iowa. It’s easy to pretend you’re still 900 miles away, waiting for my family to descend so you have an excuse to go down the curly slide, cane and all.

Then I do something crazy, like bake, and the events of last November come flooding back.

Sunday it was banana walnut muffins. I had black bananas to use and figured, “Why not?”

Then I pulled out the cinnamon. Nothing beats fresh cinnamon.

The plastic jar is still labeled in your handwriting, listing the type and the date the cinnamon was made. My favorite, the Batavia Cinnamon, tells me you tested it on July  16th, exactly nine years ago.

I remember for years I had to reduce the cinnamon in recipes if I used it because it was so strong. Even now, NINE YEARS LATER, it is eons better than any I can get at the store.

I don’t think I will ever be able to smell cinnamon and not think of you.

It makes me smile, even as tears spring into my eyes.

I can never forget you.

I miss you, G-pa. 



P.S. The kids loved the muffins.

About Kelly K @ Dances with Chaos

Kelly K has learned the five steps to surviving of motherhood: 1) Don't get mad. Grab your camera. 2) Take a photograph. 3) Blog about it. 4) Laugh. 5) Repeat. She shares these tales at Dances with Chaos in order to preserve what tiny amount of sanity remains. You can also find her on her sister blog, Writing with Chaos ( sharing memoir and engaging in her true love: fiction writing. It's cheaper than therapy.
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2 Responses to Cinnamon Memories

  1. Skye says:

    That is a sweet, sweet tribute.

  2. Jenn says:

    This was very touching. I’m very glad that you have a tangible memory of your love that can so engage your senses… and be passed on to your children!

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