Scrambled Eggs

I had a favorite aunt, I have made no secret about that.  She lived a couple of hours away from our house in the same small town as my grandparents and several other relatives.  I loved going to visit her.  As I have mentioned before she made me feel special, and every little girl needs to feel special--especially by an aunt.

When I was a kid my cousins and I had a blast at her house chasing those silly little tree frogs.  Sometimes we would play tag late into the night, other times we would just hang out and talk.  Kid talk.  It was the best.  Cousins forever--right?

After I married and had children of my own it was important for me to let them experience a little bit of my life with my aunt and cousins.  My husband and I would load them up in our car and drive to my aunt's house and spend the weekend.  We would all hang out by her pool and swim, we would bar-b-que and eat and have the best time.  My kids loved it, and once in a while, they would even get to camp out in tents in her big back yard.  Sometime around midnight when the adults were all talked out we'd carry them into bed.  They always wondered the next morning how they had gotten there.

This morning while scrambling eggs I was reminded of one of those times with my aunt.  She and I were in the kitchen making breakfast--there were a ton of us there that weekend.  Maybe it was even a holiday weekend--the 4th of July or something--I was in charge of the eggs which sparked a debate among the aunts--how to scramble an egg the correct way.  Me, being a wannabe chef had the right way all figured out, but the aunts, having had some experience with eggs tucked under their belts all had a different way--many different ways.  All of us had a great time that morning discussing eggs and the many differing ways to cook them.  I don't think we ever came to a conclusion, but we sure had fun.

Memory queues--I have them often--the more so as I age.  I can be doing something as simple as scrambling an egg and think of my aunt.  I can see a little girls pair of tennis shoes and think of my niece, I can see a young man's smile and think of my nephew, or I can look in the mirror and think of my grandmother.   I am thankful for the ability to remember the past.  It's very important to me.  However, I wonder, what will be remembered about me? What will my niece and nephew remember or my own children and grandchildren?  What will their memory queues be?  What will spark a memory for them?

It seems that my greatest memories are of those that have passed away, and of those that have meant the most to me.  My memories seem to consist of the ones I have loved deeply and miss greatly.  I guess that's how it's supposed to be.  Maybe that's why God allows us to keep those memories.  Especially the memories that are so sweet, pure and simple--like scrambled eggs.