It’s funny the things that trigger memories. Smells and tastes and sounds moreso than the more tangible things. Perhaps those ‘simpler’ sensations, the ones we process and analyze less, are more direct routes to the long-forgotten memories…

The smell of cold coffee still in the pot, and chex mix. I’ve got a styrofoam bowl, munching on it as I wait for the laundry to finish and the movie to start on TV – and voila. I’m back in my grandparents’ house, circa 1985. Maybe ‘86. Late night card games with relatives. Sherry and cigarettes. Pots of coffee brewing endlessly. The adults would drink and laugh and smoke and play cards and talk and I’d sit in the living room and munch on chex mix and watch movies, or read books, or pad into the kitchen and listen and be part of what they were doing for a while.

Strange. It makes me smile.

And I eat my chex mix.

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