I Remember Jello

Do you ever have the experience where you smell a certain odor, and it takes you back in time? That happened to me, this morning. I entered my kitchen, and caught a whiff of a sweet scent by our refrigerator that reminded me of my grandmother’s kitchen. I immediately felt myself soar into the past, back to late 60’s.

My paternal grandparents owned a summer cottage that resided by a lake in Rhode Island, when I was very young. My family lived about a half an hour away, and would visit most weekends. The cottage was located on tiny, dead-end street that concluded into a dock overlooking the tiny lake. I loved to stride on the boardwalk with my older cousins, and watch the boats.

But mostly, I loved my Irish grandmother’s kitchen. For a few years, until my brother came along, I was the youngest and tiniest of the grandchildren, and she delighted in trying to fatten me up. I’d sit at the formica kitchen table and feast on pastina and jello, while watching her prepare a beef stew for the adults. It felt like a place of honor to be the only one allowed in her kitchen; The Matriarch’s Private Domain; while she chopped carrots and potatoes and prattered on about life. I didn’t understand most of what she said, but I felt loved and special.

That was a gift, this morning. A warm-hearted memory sparked by a stale refrigerator smell. I just thought I'd share.