a spoonful of memories

I recently had the privilege of borrowing my grandmother's scrapbook so I could make copies of some of the photos for a family tree project I am hoping to create for my kids.

What fun it is to go through that book!  I get to 'see' so much: my dad as a one year old, chubby cheeked baby, relatives of mine that I've never met, my grandmother in her wedding gown, my grandparents smiling and looking in-love on their first anniversary, my dad as a cheeky teenager, my grandmother holding her infant children.
A wealth of memories must be contained in that book, and I am sure she is eager for me to return it to her.

I was quite surprised to come across a photo of myself, as most of the book is comprised of photos taken before I was even born.

I wasn't quite three when this photo was taken.  September must have been a beautiful time of year back east, kind of like here, because we were wearing short sleeves.  And it brings back a few flitting memories I have of the time Grandma used to watch Kelton and I during my mother's work day.

Grandma had a low stone wall that ran across her yard, perhaps on the edge of it and the great big woods (I have no idea how big, because I've never been back).  Kelton and I used to love to play on that wall.

The memory of that wall triggers another memory.
Grandma (or was it her sister?) had these wooden bowls, that looked like they were made of wooden squares all patched together, overlapping each other.  We were eating cereal and Grandma (or perhaps it was her sister, I'm not sure now) had just told us not to add any more sugar to our cereal. We, of course, did not listen and helped ourselves to a large amount of sugar from the sugar bowl on the middle of the table.  When Grandma came in later, she scolded us for not listening and taking more sugar anyway. "But how did you know!?" we asked her.
"Because the sugar is scraping on the bottom of your bowls each time you spoon a bite!" she said between laughs.

And the more I think about it, the more I'm beginning to think it was Grandma's sister who owned those wood bowls and scolded us.  I'm doubtful I could remember something so vividly from the time I was 4 years old.  And it sounds exactly like something my two living brothers would do and say.

I am going to have to pay my great-aunt a visit, and ask her if she has or had those wooden bowls and see if she remembers that particular incident.  I think I best bring my brothers along as well, and we can reminisce the summer weeks we spent in their home and relish in their company while we still have the opportunity to do so.

And you know something? Every now and then, I have a hankering for a bowl of cheerios or rice krispies with (just one) spoonful of sugar sprinkled on top.